june 

i’ve been toying with the idea of being this guys girlfriend for the past month. i do like him, so i said yes when he asked me to be exclusive, but i’m so busy and really just want to be alone… but i don’t want to lose him. in the span of 24 hours i vacillate between being repulsed by him, to fantasizing about moving to new york together, to being numb, to wanting to make a baby, to being a little annoyed, etc.

tonight as i got out of the bath and put on my acne medication and creams and potions and looked at myself naked in the mirror, i thought about how I’ve been going to the gym lately and how i might even keep it up cuz i have a newfound incentive to be naked way more now than when i was single. if you can believe that! i know! something about having a boyfriend makes me happy, a bit more peppy. i like the idea of having someone to be good for. someone to keep me in check. someone to impress. someone to take care of, someone to love, someone to check in with, someone to depend on, someone who cares, someone to be my best for, look sexy/cute for.

but ultimately the person i aim to please is me.

i mean, this guy is great, but it’s always really about me. am i  ready for a serious relationship again? they take so much energy. they can be exhausting. fuck, i just got out of a serious relationship four months prior to meeting this guy… but the way it started with this guy was so magical.

but now, about a month and a week in, i realized that we don’t really even know each other. i’m not sure what i really like about him. and some of his personality traits are super annoying. he makes up silly songs that make me cringe. all i want them to do is make me laugh, but they make me cringe. i’m sorry. it’s just how i feel. it’s my gut reaction. i don’t want to feel this way. i want to be happy. i mean, don’t i? maybe i’ll always have a problem with people. whoops, i don’t mean people. i mean: the men who try to love me. the men i love, who love me back. can i even trust my own judgement anymore? i just don’t know.

we operate under the idea that someone perfect is out there for us. is that just bullshit? how much compromise is too much compromise? what’s important? what annoying things are break-up worthy, and what are just things we should accept? how should we weigh the pros and cons? obvi: being abused is a deal breaker! i’m not questioning that. i’m talking about little things, the tiny nuances that make you cringe/turn you off/make you feel alone/alienated/misunderstood/confused. cosmopolitan problems and aspects that don’t affect people who have arranged marriages.

i’ll be fine, whatever happens. i just don’t know how many more times i can do this; go from the joy of the first encounter. the perfection. to the first fight that leads to the second and the third and ultimately what makes up the demise of the relationship.

how much work is it supposed to be?

but i’m thinking too much now. as usual. i’ll know when i know. it’ll play out the way it’s supposed to.

july

and now i am single.

i’m happy to be alone again. it’s for the best. but i am alone.

being single is one of the best things in the world. you can eat whatever, whenever, and however you like. you don’t have to check in with anyone, or be held accountable to anyone. you can work all hours, see your friends, travel, get all your errands done (couldn’t i have done that in my relationship too though? hmm)

but then those moments of loneliness can creep up on you. those are the moments when…

and now, even though i’m single, i don’t want to be naked for anyone.

i’m single again. i wanted to be. but as single as i’ve ever been, i’ve never been as NOT in the mood to have a fling as i am now. i’m even trying to keep from being naked in front of someone by sabotaging myself. i’ll get to that in a bit…

give me a few days, and i MIGHT be in the mood for a casual make out. at least some sort of public, outdoor rendezvous; on a street corner (something not confined to a bedroom), or maybe a kiss inside or leaning up against my car. which reminds me, i really want to get a prius.

just as sure as i am the next man i’ll date will drive a black prius or a black range rover, i KNOW my next car will be a pewter colored prius. it’s just something i’ve had in the back of my mind for the past seven years! i have a strict no leasing policy in my heart… cuz suze orman says it’s totally bad news to lease, but it seems like everyone in LA leases! i’d rather buy outright! wait, how the fuck did my rant turn into a one-sided discussion on cars? are you witnessing me become A-sexual?

back to sexy stuff.  my being numb, emotionally unavailable, and completely uninterested in sex has resulted in picking at my back, face, and over tweezing parts of my body until it could be considered ‘home surgery’. which i’m doing on purpose so my body isn’t up to par for a nakedess encounter. i’m damaging myself so i’ll HAVE to take the time to heal and avoid the embarrassment of being seen by the next person i let inside of me… whoever they might be.

i need to exercise some self-control. but it’s as if i’m in a trance. hopefully the new dresses i bought at urban will be enough incentive to keep my hands off myself,  not in the GOOD way!

i’ve been taking epsom salt baths (to relax my anxiety and heal). during one of these baths the other night, i decided that full retro bush/privates is the way to go this spring… and then i immediately shaved everything off my privates! WTF? i ALREADY know i’m my own worst enemy, but this is insane.

so now i’m mourning the death of and honoring time i spent in a relationship with someone i may not have even liked.

next time i’ll be more discerning with who i let get close to me, with who i let myself fall in love with. um, will i? nope. that shit just happens. but i don’t have to be scared about having an open heart and falling madly and passionately in love at the drop of a hat, as long as i always follow my gut and intuition and not waste my time as soon as i/if i fall out of love! having made a pact like that with myself makes me feel pretty safe about living my life and falling in love. (no matter how old i get. baby, no baby. marriage, no marriage.) i’m always safe. i’ll always be ok. i just have to trust that everything is exactly the way it needs to be.

i promise to keep my heart open, not be bitter, and always have a childlike enthusiasm as i keep my eyes open/look for the next person i’ll have a love affair with. because as good as it feels to be single, and as bad as it feels to be with the wrong person, when it’s right (even if only for a few months) it’s so nice to have someone to be good for.

By: boycrazy on December 30, 2011
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
9 Comments »

I’ve been so many different girls. I’ve been the girl the guy doesn’t care about, who meet her at a bar for a date and it ends in a make out in his car- meaningless and nothing. I’ve been the unattainable girl, the rebound, the girl with a puppy-dog crush, the crazy girl, the desperate girl, the dork, and the heartbreaker. I’ve been a bitch, and a sweetheart, and considered goth or mod or hipster. I’ve been the weird girl, the fancy girl, the fashiony city girl, the naïve girl. All depending on whose eyes are looking at me; Whose eyes I’m being seen through. I’ve been the starfucker, the band fucker, the girl who only dates rock stars or drummers, the girl who only wants to date rich guys or at least a guy who owns a car, the girl who doesn’t care what a guy looks like, the girl who settles, the girl who isn’t picky enough, the girl who’s too picky, the girl who only likes funny guys, the girl who only likes young guys. I’ve been the girl whose a prude- not sexually, never sexually… but alcohol and drug- wise. I’ve been the flirt, the tease, the confusing girl who leads guys on. I’ve been the mean girl, the cold girl, the girl with daddy issues, the elusive butterfly. all the while, the only variable being the man who was looking at me. and the only constant being me. so I guess when I find the right guy, whatever that means, I’ll know because I’ll be the truest, happiest, best, most balanced version of myself. I’ll be the person I am when I’m all alone, or with friends… only more loved, and, um, not alone… and maybe even contradict myself a little less.

By: boycrazy on November 18, 2011
Tags: rants
9 Comments »

You asked me to write you a letter telling you all the things that bothered me about you while we were dating. all the things i feel you need to work on/look at with your new therapist, and at the very least… acknowledge. here’s the letter:

Dear Boy,

By: boycrazy on September 30, 2011
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
23 Comments »

everything about you tells a story. your smell, your clothes, how you move, the hickey on your neck, the bruises on your thighs, the scrapes & scabs on your knees, how you put yourself together, what you sound like; your inflections/cadence/tone/pitch. your facial expressions, handwriting, the words/thoughts/ideas you choose to express. the shape of your body tells a story too. Do you binge eat to squash hurt? Are you anorexic or bulimic to control something in your life, because something else/something bigger/more major in your life is out of your control? Do you want to lose five to ten pounds to reach whatever you’ve decided your arbitrary goal weight is, but you can’t, you won’t, you subconsciously refuse to do it/won’t let yourself, cuz the weight is your padding/a symbolic crutch? It makes you feel safe and stands in your way from ever reaching any idea you had of what perfection might be, cuz you think you wouldn’t be able to handle it when you got there or maintain it if you did, or that maybe you’d still be unhappy if you got there? just something i was thinking about. i love you.

By: boycrazy on July 26, 2011
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
12 Comments »

CONTINUATION OF ‘ACTNG OUT (PART 1)’:

i wasn’t drinking. i had to wake up early the next day for work stuff (and a 12:15 appt that i’ll tell you about later), and i knew better than to get swept away by a boy, let alone one i’d only JUST met, and ruin my life-  even if my definition of ‘ruining my life’ is being sleepy for a meeting, it’s still cause for resentment, and i don’t let that happen anymore. i like to take care of me first- which ultimately gives the relationship in question the BEST shot it can have. he was leaving the bar and asked me if i wanted to go to some club that he and his friends were going to, i said i couldn’t. but as we walked outside, his friends went one way and he just kept walking with me. or maybe they were never there. maybe he was gonna meet up with them? who knows? i can’t remember, but i’m so honest and detail oriented i want to be exact with you. we walked down the street in the direction of my hotel. he told me some exciting news about his friend. i wasn’t sure if it was real or if he was just making bullshit talk. gawd. my self awareness/over-thinking/and trust issues can really kill the mood/be detrimental. at least i kept this thought to myself though. one of few.

he asked me if i wanted to pop into a club we were passing. i said ‘sure, I’ll have a peek inside’. i mean, as long as i wasn’t drinking i could peek inside a club for like fifteen minutes tops! as soon as we walked in, the music was blaring and as if i were with my best male platonic friend (who, btw, was off gallivanting somewhere else in nyc, doing god knows what. we weren’t sharing a hotel anymore, so i was off on my own, with a hotel room all to myself too! i couldn’t wait to give my male bff the recap of the adventures i was collecting. oh, and to hear his or whatevs. even though our dynamic is very much a me sorta listening to him, but really just waiting to speak kinda thing… and he totally indulges me! cuz that’s what true friendship is all about, right?) i started dancing like a crazy lil kid. super unselfconscious. i was so proud of myself. i could have so easily turned inward and been shy and stunted by fear and a need for this guy to like me and not judge me. which is funny, cuz i feel like the person who doesn’t dance is way more of a dork and more likely to be judged harshly than the person who doesn’t give a fuck. but fear is a real thing and affects people. thank god i wasn’t that person that night. and very rarely am. we danced. he danced like a silly little kid too. it was epic. i could see in his face that he was so happy i wasn’t some girl who’s too self conscious. we danced for exactly fifteen minutes, grabbed our stuff and got the fuck out of there. except for us, it was filled with a Kardashian vibe meets Jersey shore esque crew. there IS a difference. it’s subtle, but it’s real.

as we continued our walk towards my hotel, i muttered this and that. shit about my height and nonsense like that. i get very self conscious and vocal about being taller than a guy. i don’t like it.  i’m 5’11 and i want the boys/men/guys i date to be my height or taller. he was taller than me, but maybe his being so thin made me second guess his height. either way, there was no need for me to be so vocal about all the chatter in my brain, but my filter isn’t up to code and i am a compulsive over-sharer because of it. geeze, what happened to that unselfconscious girl in the club only seven minutes prior? who knows? i’m comprised of many different parts. and as i blabbed, and as i occasionally, finally shut the fuck up, and as i nervously sat in the uncomfortableness of that silence/cuz silence can be so very uncomfortable/and just looked over at him while i smiled occasionally, i thought- wow, he’s gorgeous. i wonder if he likes me. this is really nice. all the while wondering when we’d kiss.

at one point i got super self conscious of my nose running, i have horrible allergies, and i told him that i might have to look in my mirror to make sure my nose was ok and that he should avert his eyes, cuz i was not proud of the fact that i felt compelled to look at myself. but before i allowed myself to grab my compact from my purse, he told me i was fine. and i believed him. he was so solid in the delivery of that sentence. he was so all knowing and way more centered and calm than me. booze? no. maybe he was always this calm cool and collected? he said my face was fine. everything was in order. and that it wouldn’t matter: if there was something on my face, if i was missing a finger… it wouldn’t matter. i loved how confident he was. i loved that he made me feel like a girl. ‘really?’ i said. ‘yeah. should i bite off your finger to prove it?’ i said ‘ok.’ and put my hand in his. he put my finger in my mouth and bit down… lightly. we looked at eachother, and then he gave me back my finger. that was one of my favorite moments.

somehow he turned into me and gently pushed me against a wall to kiss me. i worried it wasn’t good. again, i was too in my head. i thought about the size of his mouth, his lips. wondering if he was happy with the kiss, wondering if he’d think it was my fault if it wasn’t epic. but then i just shushed my brain and just kissed him. i was in nyc making out with a beautiful boy. we continued walking. i took his hand as we passed a bench and pulled him down to sit next to me. we kissed there. people walked past us. we got back up and walked some more. i was nervous to hold his hand cuz i was scared he wouldn’t let me, or be weirded out by it, or try to get out of it, or think i liked him too much or was coming on to strong, or was annoying or clingy or needy or thinking this was something that it wasn’t and would never be. i go out of my way to think for everyone involved. can you tell? in a perfect world, or just a future me, i’d like to just do what i want to do and take the chance of being vulnerable and not worry about it and just wait and see how the other person reacts. then i’ll see who i’m dealing with. then i’ll let the person show who they are, instead of me thinking for them/deciding for them. it’s getting to be too much for me. i want it to stop! but, all that aside, we continues kissing. this youthful, romantic, ‘who knows where the night will take you… oh wow, now i’m kissing a stranger as i meander the streets of soho’ was exactly what i needed. something innocent and sweet that made me feel like i was sixteen again. and then we were at my hotel.

i was half not wanting him to come upstairs and half wanting him to. i thought maybe i could get away with just having him walk me to my hotel room door? we kissed in the elevator. and before i knew it i was letting him into my room. ahhh! i wanted him there, but i was so not ready for this. i was so at odds with myself cuz i wanted to be responsible and get enough sleep for the meetings i had the following day. immediately as we walked in , i saw my bff had left the most horrific portrait of the two of us that we’d had done in central park the day before, prominently displayed leaning againg the wall! i covertly turned it around before dude could notice. i mean, who cares? but i cared.

i climbed on the bed, he climbed on top of me, his hat falling off. wow, this guys hair really was curly. i was wearing stockings. sometimes i feel like these are a life saver in slowing things down during a makeout sesh/sexy time rendezvous. one more layer to take off. the funny thing is though, dude wasn’t wearing undies, which i’ve noticed a couple boys i’ve rolled around with don’t do. which i think is sexy- but my platonic male bff thinks is gross cuz it makes your jeans smell bad since everybody knows you don’t fucking wash your jeans (#rookiemistake.com) and my bff ALSO thinks a guy wearing undies (he’s not gay, by ‘guy’ he means himself in the scenario) is sexier because it means biding your time and (just like how i feel about my stockings) it’s one more layer to remove, prolonging sexy time adventures. what do you prefer? i like dirty young dudes (‘dirty’ in the sexually nasty sense of the word) who don’t give a fuck and the minute you unbutton their jeans, their dick is all hard and right there! it’s sooo fucking sexxxay! either that or calvin klein undies. but that’s neither here nor there, my bff just doesn’t understand. we’ll have to agree to disagree. i mean, he’s not gay so, he doesn’t really even have to worry about it. unless he comes across some girl in jeans who never wears undies. would that be just as gross?? why or why not? ANYWAYS!

We flopped onto the bed and started kissing. I was wearing a short dress and stockings.  He unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants, but I kept everything on. It wasn’t gonna be that kind of night. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t. I was so conflicted about having invited him into my hotel room- knowing I didn’t want to have sex with him. Or not that I didn’t want to/i just wasn’t gonna. I know these were mixed signals to a boy. But isn’t ‘just making out’ allowed anymore? Everything moves so fucking fast. And I definitly don’t help slow it down. I just wanted to kiss and roll around and continue talking and being around him. He seemed so wise beyond his years, and from what he told me about his past, and his parents, and his work, I was intrigued by who he was/might be- considering all he’s experienced. Plus he looked like he was straight out of ‘the warriors’. He had this quiet intensity, but not the kind where it turns out the dude has nothing going on in his brain after all. i could just tell he was smart and special.

After some more kissing and boobie suckling and him trying over and over again to touch, kiss, lick my privates- he told me I seemed ‘sooooo stressed’. I said ‘why? how come? How was I supposed to look? Like this?’ Then I pretended to pass out with my tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth. Of course I was stressed. I’d invited a stranger into my hotel room, it was late, and I had so much to do the next day. I tried to loosen up, mentally not vaginally, and live in the moment. I remembered to breath. I said ‘you caught me on the wrong day’. I realized by the expression on his face that he had no idea what I was talking about. Either that, or I think he thought I meant I was having my period (which I wasn’t). I told him that my therapist had recently told me I should try to slow down how fast I move sexually (which was/is completely true). And it was (kinda) gonna start with him.

He flipped over, off of me, in mock exasperation. I smiled and said ‘Is this a guys worst nightmare; Being half naked, laying in a bed with a girl and then she starts talking about her therapist?’ if i were a dude; it would be, could be, might be. or maybe i’d think it was adorably charming! He laughed. He didn’t mind. he said he liked the challenge of sexxing me. He seemed intrigued and confused by me. Then we spooned. During moments of silence, I burst out saying ‘I need you to know how hard it is for me NOT to talk.’ He told me to talk, that he likes talking.’ And as simple and ridiculous as that sentence was, it made me feel so happy… Cuz I love to talk way toooo much about all the nonsense going on in my brain. Especially laying in bed with a boy (if we’re not kissing or sexxxing, and sometimes even then). So we talked. We talked about his family, and a friend of his I’d met earlier at the bar, and his work, etc.

Really, what I think i needed all along was this: intimacy. i needed to be next to someone. i needed to be in someones arms, in a pg 13 type manner. so we talked and laughed and kissed and he pretended to explain to my therapist why I should have sex with him. it was super cute. I just laughed. He really was goodlooking. I think he said something about being in la in the next few months, but I rolled my eyes in typical self defense mode to let him know I wasn’t falling for that or I wasn’t gonna look forward to it or some nonsense like that or whatever the fuck I was doing. It was 3am and after putting it off over and over again, I said he really did have to leave cuz I had to wake up so early (it woulda been impossible for me to relax and get real sleep if he spent the night). He kissed me, and said it wasn’t easy for him to leave me. and in the spirit of beginning to let myself be vulnerable and just allow myself to be soft and not always on the defense, i told him it wasn’t easy for me to say goodbye to him either and that i had such a nice time. we made some silly facebook jokey banter about how he’d friend me on facebook. And I leaned out the door and said, ‘I’m at friendship capacity, so write me a message first and I’ll friend you‘. modern romance, 2011 styles. And then I went to sleep… Having not had sex with a relative stranger in New York City. Phew! I did it! My therapist would be so proud.

By: boycrazy on June 21, 2011
Tags: nyc, rants, thoughts and stories
14 Comments »

What is the goal? What is the goal? What is the goal? Who is in control? I am. If I remember that: I am. What do I want from every scenario I put myself in? Who can take my power from me and leave me a spineless frightened little girl unable to breath who can’t remember why she might matter or be worthy even a little bit? No one. I’m the one who actively gives it away. Mantras. I have to use mantras like ‘I’m enough. I’m enough. I’m enough. Just breathe. Everything is exactly as it needs to be to.’ I have to remember to be grounded. To be OK. To remember my worth. I have to make sure I don’t get unconsciously swept up/swept away. Cuz that shit happens so easily. We lose years of our lives to bad relationships, bad choices, not taking responsibility, making excuses, saying ‘I can’t‘ while another one CAN, binge eating, having horrible- life sucking-unfulfilling jobs, taking drugs, fucking evil assholes, letting them inside us. So I continue to ask myself things like ‘What do you want right now? What is it that you want from the situation you are in?’ Because as long as I know where I’m coming from, as long as I know what I want. As long as I listen to that tiny voice inside me- in the pit of my stomach- and not delude myself; as long as I check in with myself constantly and consciously, and know what I want for myself/what the goal of the moment is, even if it’s as simple as: to make a friend, to fuck, to learn something, to be quiet, to be brave, to protect myself, to be alone, to have fun, to dance, to see another side of life/of the story… then I’m not operating from an unconscious place. I’m not letting deep routed/ingrained behavior/lessons/teachings guide me. This is a life practice. And even if you aren’t exactly sure of what your goal is, but you know enough/you just wanna be wherever you are to find out what happens- and you feel you’re in a safe environment with people who aren’t gonna hurt you (physically/emotionally) that’s fine. what’s important is that you took the time to check in with yourself. You stopped for a moment to take care of yourself. Sometimes, i can act consciously unconscious. This is when I see what I’m doing and i know that it’s a bit reckless/compulsive/and might invite chaos into my life… but I do it anyway- forfeiting logic and playing it safe, choosing to subscribe to my other mantras which include: ‘we’re all gonna die anyway’, and ‘what would the 50 year old me tell me to do?’ But as long as I’m awake and present and aware of the goal, and the consequences, and not hurting anyone… I’m OK/in check. Nobody’s perfect. It is what it is. I love you.

By: boycrazy on June 10, 2011
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
17 Comments »

i was the happiest I’d ever been in my entire life, i was feeling brave and felt as though i knew myself and was more comfortable with who i am emotionally, in my body, and sexually than ever before… but i was starting to become consciously unconscious as far as my behavior with the opposite sex was concerned. old behavior and habits were coming back. i was veering from a much more grounded version of me i’d begun the year as! and i wasn’t sure if this was good or bad or unhealthy.

it started with my mantra ‘what would the fifty year old me tell me to do’? but it was also a mix of feeling a bit aimless and waiting for the next chapter of my life to begin. i was waiting on some work stuff that i had no control over. and although i tried to keep as busy as possible with writing, playing drums, making stuff, seeing friends, dancing, podcasting, masturbating, taking baths, traveling, and a million other things- I’m a woman, and woman can really multi task. OR was i just collecting stories and living my life having adventures and acting more masculine than feminine as far as being hung up on society’s moral codes?

the last guy I’d slept with was a guy only visiting Los Angeles for 10 days. we met, had good mutual friends (which made me feel safe with him), and we liked each other. we both had a desire to understand each other, and learn more about one another. this was nice. he was different from other guys I’d dated. and even though he wasn’t right for me and, from what i heard, in an open relationship (gross/whatever the fuck THAT means)… he was a good, smart person that i had fun with, who wasn’t evil. he was also someone i used as a mirror to learn more about myself. if you pay attention, every person you meet can be used as a mirror. they’re there to teach you something or remind you of something. basically making you look at yourself. one of the things i learned, something my therapist had been telling me for a while, was that i should slooooow down. i move very quickly. i talk a lot, ask lots of questions, have sex too soon, get a quick overall sense of the person I’m with, then chew them up and spit them out. and then I’m done! (sometimes, not ALL the time). Somehow deluding myself into thinking I’m the victim of it all. but this ’10 day boyfriend’ was one of a handful of boys i’d met recently who kept bringing up the idea, reminder, and importance of moving more slowly. enjoying the anticipation of romance. taking sex more slowly. talking. getting to know one another. mystery. all things i know, but forgot about somewhere along the way. you know, like Carrie when she stared dating Aidan! shhhhh. but now I’m rambling within my ramble.

prior to my ’10 day ‘boyfriend’, i had already begun my ‘throw caution to the wind’, ‘you’re only young once’, ‘we’re all gonna die’ attitude. I’d just come back from some music festival where i kissed seven boys and took part in some bizaroo non penetration threesome. i didn’t give a blow job either, it was more a make out/fool around threesome… which was pretty luxurious actually. but still, VERY unlike me. and my choice of men to fool around with was totes random too. i was acting very ‘in the mo’. gross. after my drive back home from the festival, i assumed life would go back to normal. i wouldn’t be so overtly sexual. but next thing i knew, i was moving way to fast with the sexually ambiguous boy i wrote about weeks ago. that was a fixation and experience i would be happier had it NEVER happened. but hindsight is 20/20 and i still learned stuff? so by the time i met my ’10 day boyfriend’, it felt nice to feel safe with someone. but then he left and i was confused. what just happened? i felt abandoned, but i knew better. it’s not like i fell in love… i just liked the sense of community. i liked belonging to someone for a bit. being spoken for. having someone to make plans with, who i respected, was smart, and who liked me too! someone to be excited about. i even loved his friends! a LOT! i may have even liked his friends more than him… only cuz with his friends- it was free of sexual tension and power plays and games and subconscious, emotional undercurrents.

on the night of the day ’10 day boyfriend’ left, to avoid feeling my feelings and at the advice of my bff’s, i went on a date with a sweetheart of a guy I’d met while i was seeing ’10 day boyfriend’ (remind me, i HAVE to do a specific post entitled ’10 day boyfriend’ super soon!) And again, numb inside, i moved too fast. i was naked and giving him a blow job way too soon (sans sex). at least holding off on sex gave me some sense of having boundaries. i mean, you gotta draw the line somewhere! right? geeze! after all, according to the old me, according to what my therapist tells me; wasn’t i supposed to mother myself? wasn’t i supposed to treat myself like i’m my own daughter? so far… i probs would’ve been taken away by child services. but i kept moving forward.

next, i went on a date with a guy and only kissed him quickly before we said goodbye, and even though these last two men were lovely… they weren’t for me. i knew it before i went out with them, i think. but what do i mean when i say ‘not for me’? (and there are varying degrees of ‘not for me’ as well. cuz some people you meet will be fun and sexually stimulating, but the love factor’s not there. other men you meet you will soon find you don’t even like. some, you realize the two of you don’t speak the same language and others are sweethearts with big hearts and you know they’re too special and emotional to potentially fuck with their heads/hearts and lead them on when you know you’re never gonna be their girlfriend) it probs means we will never be boyfriend and girlfriend. but why do i go out and flirt and put myself out there? what are my goals? what IS the goal? the goal is to have fun and kiss people you are attracted to, and collect stories, and have adventures, and romantic rendezvous, and make friends, and learn/experience what you like and don’t like (and not get jaded and bitter along the way), AND to be present enough to know when you meet someone who is special enough to fall in love with. that is the goal. i mean, i think, for now. all this is subject to change. i mean, like, errrr, i am a work in progress. yawn.

anyways, work and life kept me from hanging out with the two lovely men i went on a date with post ‘ten day boyfrend’ and before i could actually call them and be a person with integrity who is uber honest, to say i wasn’t into dating at this point in time… my dad called me to tell me he was on his death bed in th ER at the hospital. now, obviously, looking at the name of this website.. it’s clear i have daddy issues and a majority of my life was spent, is spent (BORING) looking for the love i didn’t get from my dad (boo hoo/yarf) so a call from my dad potentially on his deathbed was a bittersweet major occurrence. i had been waiting for this day. i had so many feelings. i was crying and in a trance. thinking things like, ‘today is the day my dad’s gonna die? this is what I’m wearing on the day my dad died? I’ll have to burn these clothes or keep them in a special box.  this is the weather on the day my dad died? this is wht it smells like and sounds like on the day my dad dies? this is how the air feels on my skin on the day my dad dies? I’m finally gonna walk through this door. I’m finally gonna face the part of my life where i deal with my dads death. never having the chance to talk to him again. forgiving him for all the horrible choices he made during my upbringing (no, i was never molested. remind me to do a post called ‘dad’ or some shit like that, so i can get into details) i felt slightly relived, but sad and confused and even considered how nice it would be to use my fathers death as a pity card i could play for as long as i needed to- but then quickly pushed that evil thought out of my head. even though i don’t even think that was an evil thought. just a real thought. we’re people. we have many thoughts. it is what it is. but after i raced to the ER in tears and threw myself onto his bedside to kiss his forehead and say ‘i love you daddy. I’m sorry we ever fought. none of that matters now, I’m here!’ he was in fact, not on his death bed and he went right back to his nasty, mean, crazy ways. and so i made sure he was OK and left him in the care of his hired girlfriend, who’s only a few years older than me, to continue their toxic dramatic lifestyle without my presence. a few days later, i resumed my life by getting on a plane to NYC with my best friend. i had no idea what i was in for. i had no idea i was gonna have the best trip of my entire life, even IF my dad was STILL alive. (too far? would adding a winky face emoticon make that statement less harsh?)

NYC started out very PG13. it was mainly about me learning how to share a room with my platonic male best friend. I’m an only child and this was truly special for me to learn how to share space and co-exist with someone who is not my boyfriend. it definitely made me a better person. i didn’t even think i was gonna meet or kiss boys in NYC, i was more excited about all the girl dates i was going on with amazing women I’d never really got a chance to talk to or spend time with/only ever had an e mail correspondence with – because we don’t live in the same city. it was funny how every woman felt comfortable enough with me to tell me the gnarliest details of their life cuz i write so openly on this thing. and they should/I’m glad they did! i live for that shit!  anyways, it wasn’t until Monday (I was leaving NYC on Wednesday afternoon) that i had my first sexy time rendezvous of the trip and it was epic. it was exactly what i needed. i was finishing up a tea and gossip/get to know you sesh with an amazing girl at a cafe and as she left to go home, i stayed behind to talk to a friend I’d run into. well, the friend ended up disappearing, which was fine- cuz i ended up talking to a tall beautiful twenty one year old man/boy with curly hair, wearing a hat. i didn’t even realize he was beautiful until about an hour into meeting him… seeing as though I’ve never been attracted to a curly haired dude before, let alone one wearing a hat… OR guys who wear hats in general, in my entire life. but what really struck me about this guy was how calm and grounded and grown up he seemed. the more we talked, and the more i looked at him, i wondered what was going on behind his eyes. i just liked being near him. (to be continued)

By: boycrazy on June 6, 2011
Tags: madonna, rants, thoughts and stories
28 Comments »

feel free to listen to this post in audio form:

How to tell you’ve given the wrong guy a blow job by imboycrazy

So you decided to hook up with the sexually ambiguous model/dj/scenester dude. don’t worry, we’ve all been there. or we all haven’t. but I’m sure some of us have. anyways… you know you should have known better, but his sexual ambiguity coupled with his bee stung lips, consistent claiming that he is in fact NOT gay, long list of good-looking ex girlfriends (which in the grand scheme of things is meaningless),  and the fact that you know he has a huge private… leaves you powerless and intrigued to the point of no return. and just when you think, ok, maybe i can have sex with this guy and it’ll be a fun, modern, upbeat no strings attached but minus the heartbreak or hurt experience… he handles it so poorly (not that he even cares), you don’t know how you could have put yourself in the situation to begin with. it’s so ridiculous and lame, you have to laugh at yourself for hanging out with such an unsavvy bonehead to begin with.

the ‘how to tell you’ve given the wrong dude a blowjob’ checklist:

1. he doesn’t even try to make you cum. even after you say, specifically,  ‘i want you to make me cum too.’

2. he cums in your mouth after you tell him not to.

3. when you spit out a bit of the cum that you didn’t expect to be in your mouth to begin with (especially since it’s the FIRST blow job, and the lady should at least have an option. and besides, a girl saying ‘cum on my tits’ isn’t exactly NOT sexy) he gets all American psycho and fixates on the cum on the bed, and cleans it all up asap. making a point of it.

4. after, while he’s sitting up, you come up behind him and wrap your arms around him, he says ‘hey, you have cum in your hair. i can feel it on my shoulder.’ and you say ‘so? who cares?’ and he says ‘i do. i just cleaned up. put your hair in a ponytail or something.’

5. as you get up to leave, he says nothing. and seems completely detached, emotionless, and dead behind his eyes.

6. he doesn’t walk you to your car after you ask him to.

7. he doesn’t even walk you to the door. he just lays there and stares at you.

8. as you awkwardly stand in the doorway of is room and ask ‘but how should i lock the door?’ he just looks at you and slowly replies after a bizarro awkward beat ‘you know, how you lock any door.’

ps: i really think you should follow me on twitter @imboycrazy

xoxo

By: boycrazy on May 5, 2011
Tags: audio, photo by nan goldin, rants
44 Comments »

You’re young, you’re adorable, and you have your whole life ahead of you- before you have ties you can’t cut and responsibilities that weigh you down. and even if you NEVER have ANY of those things holding you back, the time is NOW to start (one at a time?) dating one of each type of the guys I’ve listed below. You’re welcome! Ready, set, go:

1. a fireman.

2. a laker.

3. a guy with a big private.

4. a top tier rapper.

5. a front man.

6. a drummer.

7. a mechanic.

8. a really sexy dumb guy with a tan who could be mistaken for a cowboy or a prostitute.

9. a movie star.

10. a nerd.

11. a man (young OR old) with salt and pepper hair.

12. an Asian guy with long hair who defies every stereotype.

13. a really funny guy.

14. a super femme straight guy.

15. a broody writer.

16. an 18 year old.

17. a 22yr old.

18. a guy who looks like a sexy vampire.

19. a painter.

20. a lawyer.

21. a guy with a motorcycle.

22. a guy with a vespa.

23. a guy with a cleft palette.

24. a guy who loves his mom.

25. a chef. but only for a brief period, so the time to lose the weight you’ve gained before you’re on to the next guy is minimal.

26. A guy who drives a prius.

27. a guy who drives a range rover.

28. a guy who has a driver.

29. a skateboarder (I.E. a guy who drives a skateboard) with abs of steel.

30. a guy with a neck tattoo.

31. a romantic.

32. a guy with a lisp.

33. a guy who doesn’t wear deodorant or cologne.

34. a guy who loves you.

35. a guy you don’t love, but the sex is amazing.

36. the owner of a major business/company.

37. a guy with a cat.

38. a guy with no dog.

39. a guy who eats healthy.

40. a surfer with shoulder length sun bleached blond hair.

41. Lenny kravitz.

42. a guy named: max, Simon, jasper, Wes, roman, Nate, Spencer, or Felix.

43. not a guy with dread locks.

44. a guy who would NEVER give up coffee, cuz he LOVES it/knows it’s so great!

45. a guy who wears, or just LOOKS like he’s wearing eyeliner.

46. a guy with a cool/great family that you really like, who really like you too.

47. an english guy.

48. a french guy. Only so you can learn the language while sexxxing and laying around in bed between kisses.

49. a red head.

50. an older man.

51. a younger man.

By: boycrazy on April 19, 2011
Tags: rants
64 Comments »

It was a Sunday night. I’d been feeling soooo bad the days prior. I needed to get out of my head. I had just seen two movies by myself (‘The Adjustment Bureau’ AND ‘Limitless’) back to back at two different theatres. When I got home I was so inspired by ‘Limitless’, at 4am I was signing up for various classes (types of classes that would normally make me feel so embarrassed for myself. but there’s just no time to be embarrassed or self conscious anymore. Time is running out. so i decided to walk through the embarrassment.) I signed up for an improv class, and a writing workshop (you’re welcome! maybe I’ll start capitalizing and learn about something i heard about called ‘grammar, punctuation, and spelling), I bought a great ticket (just for me/party of one) to a Laker game for the coming Tuesday (section 101, row 9). And the next morning I jumped in my car and headed to Disneyland. Solo! I needed to get out of Hollywood. I was just happy to drive to a new part of California. No matter how ugly, bland, and industrial.

I walked into a starbux adjacent to the park and immediately knew going on this little excursion was the right decision, as both the guys/baristas working behind the counter were gorgeous, 22, and looked like they could have been featured extras in any of the twilight films. One for each clan! Cullen OR werewolf side. Phew. Even though e’erybody KNOWS at my core, I’m team Bella!

I was feeling good. I parked in the Minnie Mouse section of the parking structure, and felt super high brow drinking my venti nonfat vanilla latte on the tram ride to the park! i paid $72 for my ticket and I was through the turnstile! At last! I was reliving… NO, more like, taking back my childhood! But this time ON MY TERMS!

Everyone was so ugly, un-chic, and overweight! I felt like a princess! Who was I surrounded by? Why is everything about me, you ask? Well, because my existence is seen and experienced through MY eyes. that’s why. Just like your life is seen from your point of view. But really, who were these people? There were groups from so many different walks of life.

Immediately I saw those people. Those theme park people who get off on being the masters of the park. It’s their home away from home. Dry humping against the wall in their target clothing. And I’m not talking about the featured designer target lines. These peoples ‘theme park mastery’ and ‘I don’t give a fuck attitude’ is all they’ll ever aspire to know. It’s sad and familiar, cuz I think I used to be intimidated by these bonehead types when I was like twelve. I’m hoping younger or never, but probably twelve.

I saw tourists from far away lands and not so far away lands, ugly baby’s, adorable toddlers, child molesters with milky/doughy sunburned skin and rubbery lipped grins. I saw girls with guys not up to their level of cuteness. i saw labels like ‘hollister’, ‘ed hardy’ and ‘juicy’ sprawled over ladies track suit bums. i saw super fit dudes with bleached blonde heffers who didn’t even look like they had a positive attitude or lovely personality to make up for the extreme difference in aesthetics: Think every mom on ‘teen mom’. How do these sloppy train-wreck girls manage to pussy whip/wrap these dufus’s around their spray tanned/french manicured/sausage fingers with such a fowl mouth and rude behavior? must be mommy issues and/or no self esteem? for now, i’ll surrender to the mystery.

All of these thoughts and feelings before I’d even looked at my map! What ride would I go on first? Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion, the Matterhorn Bobsleds? so far, people watching was enough. going here alone was like a walking meditation. Being alone, but surrounded by people, and not having to speak was more isolating than just being alone at home watching ‘Khloe and Lamar’ or whatevs. what i did know was, at SOME point, I’d have to allow myself a churro and a soft pretzel with mustard! I just HAD to! I knew I’d feel guilty about it later, but not while I was at Disneyland. There is no guilt at Disneyland. Except for the latent memory of racism, greed, and god knows what else…. but that was then, and this is now!

Suddenly, in my fantasy churro haze, I realized I was staring directly at the cellulite on the thighs of two teenage girls in short shorts. And it made me feel so good! shhhh. just listen! it made me feel good for two reasons: A. It made me feel better about MY OWN body. And 2. Because they were so fearless and accepting of THEIRS! They were just putting it all out there! Hurrah.

On a side note, splash mountain was closed. But I would be OK. #firstworldproblems. Also, one of the best things about this place, I just noticed…no dogs! Just hot dogs.

I wondered if I’d see any pockets of hipsters or have the rare celeb sighting. you know, like when you’re at some remote thrift store in the middle of nowhere and you think ‘great, all the good finds will be mine! I’ll own the joint!’ But then you see the perfectly styled/coiffed Japanese tourists there to snag all the best 50 cotton 5o poly tees for their uuber chic vintage shops in Tokyo! And suddenly you don’t feel so special anymore.

Passing by a gift shop, I saw they were selling autograph books and it reminded me of when I came to Disneyland when I was little and asked my mom to buy me one. maybe from this very shop! Except, I didn’t understand it was to collect other peoples autographs and signatures. Instead, I filled it with variations of my OWN signature! What. A. Dick.

To my left I saw fourteen year olds with fupas, white middle aged men with their mail order Asian brides, spouting all the rides their docile wife wouldn’t like and wouldn’t be allowed to go on. gross. But who knows what these women’s alternate life options were. To my right, I saw a fat, grumpy looking white women bossing around her husband who was hopefully cheating on her… for his sake.

What I noticed about so many of these grim people who looked so dead inside, was that they could have been ANYTHING if they’d believed in themselves and took some initiative! They were probably all religious and into god too; spewing this and that about faith. But when it came to having faith in themselves, that’s where they dropped the ball. Now the bitterness had frozen on their worn/tired/angry faces. And it hurt when I looked at these faces. It’s sad. If you really stop and look, you can feel peoples pain, and unrealized dreams. I could feel the lack of belief in themselves, and a general sense of having given up or just never having tried at all. But this was too miserable to think about. it was time to buy a churro. (to be continued)

By: boycrazy on April 11, 2011
Tags: disneyland, photo by alexi wasser, rants, thoughts and stories
108 Comments »