what is the goal?

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.

acting out:

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)

how to tell you’ve given the WRONG guy a blow job:

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


one of each- a single girls dating checklist:

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.

alone at disneyland:

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.

dear fatty

dear fatty,
what’s up with you being so fat?! i know you’re not technically fat by like middle America’s standards or whatevs- but you live in a big city girl. a metropolis, if you will. anywhere else you’d be considered ‘healthy’. but here… you’re gross. here, healthy means you’re fat!

you’re SO CLOSE to being beautiful. you’re probs ten to twelve pounds shy of looking gaunt even! can’t you just take one for the team? i know you love your personality (which might be lost while you’re starving yourself to reach your personal standard of perfection) but you also hate yourself and hide indoors when you’re bloated and obsess over how you look and how much better you could look in your jeans if you could fit in them.

sure, you could buy a size up (AKA the size that actually fits you) but that would mean you’ve lost the fight/the game! the one you secretly created that keeps you in constant opposition with yourself. the one that keeps you from loving/accepting yourself. Wouldn’t it be weird if you just stopped hating on yourself and embraced you and then the weight just fell off anyways naturally- out of the blue? that would be sooo cool! but who wants to chance it? that sounds WAY too scary! Buying a bigger pant size would be you throwing in the towel to this internal struggle. i know you’ll never do that, so why don’t you start trying harder?

from now on, how about eating less you fucking monster pig! i know you love coffee, so how about one cup in the morning with half and half- cuz i know that’s your heroin. and for the rest of the day only peppermint and/or green tea! no, of course no honey or sugar or stevia or splenda or equal or sweet n low! are you even fucking listening?! Jesus fucking Christ! from now on drink three 1.5 liter bottles of water a day, go to the steam room every day for an hour, walk as much as you can at least once a day, OR just park farther away at the supermarket or whatever it is you’re parking for.

do leg lifts and stretch and dance around in your apartment in your undies too. I’m pretty sure that’s the only time it’s OK to listen to Fergie or Katy Perry. i mean, girls are always doing that shizz in horrible rom-coms. why not try it out in real life and see how you feel/if it makes you any less of a fatso. i call that: art, imitating life, imitating art. except that there is no art involved.

good luck fatty. i know you can do it. you’re only eight pounds away from looking good in your jeans again, but lets up the weight loss goal to fourteen pounds just to add even more unwanted pressure on yourself/be safe. LYLAS beyaaatch muthah-fuckah/boo ya/xo, me

FOR DUDES ONLY- How to for SURE blow it with a GREAT girl (part 2):

(continued from here)

1. be a racist.

2. keep all reading material in the bathroom!

3. keep KY by the bed. Especially when you’re first inviting her into your room. But if you REALLY wanna take it to the NEXT LEVAL, a rolled up dollar bill on a cd NEXT TO THE KY will only make her introduction to your room all the MORE interesting!

4. tell her you never EVER wanna get married.

5. start fights for NO reason with perfect strangers.

6. be rude to waiters.

7. be extremely jealous.

8. hit her. OR just THREATEN to hit her.

9. make sure there are cum stains on your sheets from your previous sexy time rendezvous for her to see.

10. forget her name when introducing her to people you run into.

11. tell her she could stand to lose a few pounds.

12. belittle her dreams.

13. Allude to having date raped a girl.

14. get mad easily.

15. always be defensive. girls FUCKING LOVE THAT!

16. tell her your religion is the only way to live life! And any other way is ridiculous/ridonculous!

17. do something gross in front of her…. ALWAYS!

18. wear ringer tees with slogans like ‘muff diver’ or ‘pussy patrol’ on them.

19. tell her you love her a week after meeting her.

20. cry whenever possible as a tool to express yourself.

21. don’t tip/tip badly.

me on nye 2010:

i don’t even know where to begin. i feel like I’ve put off writing a real, journal entry style post on this site for such a long time. for a while i just subconsciously decided i didn’t want to share my REAL feelings with anyone on the interweb, for real. i didn’t want to use this blog as a tool to help me figure out how or what I’m feeling – like i used to.

I’m in a weird place in my life right now. I’m single. I’ve only slept with four people this year. and i want so much for myself. i want my dreams to come true so badly i can feel them/see them- they feel so close. but I’m in this grey zone purgatory vortex waiting area. in between who i used to be and who i want to be/who i plan to be. it’s scary for me to write this. it’s scary for me to say that i have dreams and goals i want to come true (even though, yes, i’m not listing them specifically for you- but use your imagination) cuz if they don’t come true, then everyone’s witnessed me put myself out there and fail. but that’s why so many people are scared to say what they want for themselves and who they want to be. too scared to even admit to themselves, let alone say out loud.

i started this blog a little over two years ago. and i never stopped being obsessed with it. it’s my favorite thing in the whole world. it’s (for the most part) what my life revolves around. when i first started it, people i knew would say ‘calm down. you’re gonna get sick of your blog if you keep at it like this.’ well, i never did assholes! it’s changed my life. it’s made me new friends. it’s showed me that i can make people laugh and that people relate to things i write/talk about. that maybe i even make them feel less alone. and I’m so grateful for that. it’s made me happy and more confidant. it’s made me feel less alone too.

someone who really inspired me and supported me and even helped set up my website (until i had to bring in a professional whiz kid computer dude) was my ex boyfriend Mike. he had and still has a blog, a clothing company, takes photos, makes films- he’s a jack of all trades. he’s also the first boyfriend I’ve ever had that i could really be myself with. even more so than with my five year ex. he made me ballsy and was super encouraging and never got jealous when I’d interview cute boys. he wouldn’t watch the vids, but he’d read my stories and rants and lists. and it showed him another side of me. it made us closer. he got to see how my mind worked/my sense of humor. in the end, deep rooted differences in both of us caused us to break up (not the b l o g)… but I’m happy to say we’re still friends. we even did karaoke the other night with a bunch of people- which is funny, cuz we did karaoke (just the two of us) on our first date. all that aside, starting this site has changed my life. and in these past two years I’ve done a lot of growing up. I’m in therapy, i have a handful of close girlfriends (more than I’ve ever had) and amazing platonic guy friends. i love all the crazy adventures i have with my friends. and so far…. it’s been great being single.

but recently (the last week or so), I’ve been crying a lot. i don’t know if it’s cuz I’m on accutane- it’s not. or if it’s because I’m stressed about the new year and everything I’ve been working so hard on getting made. but i have so many feelings just beneath the surface. i want all the seeds I’m planting for my future to grow and flourish. and for the first time, i think i want/am ready to be loved by someone. but all the things i read in the news and see in real life, and even in movies like fucking ‘blue valentine’ make me feel like maybe love or relationships and marriage don’t ever work out. but I’m a romantic. I’m not bitter. yes, i over-think things and take in everything i see going on around me, but I’m not bitter or hard.

I’ve recently realized that i need to eliminate the subconscious social expectation that is instilled/ingrained in women from birth. no matter how modern or anti establishment a woman you may be, it’s there: get married, have kids. or else you’re a failure as a woman. nooooo! I refuse to feel like a failure if i end up 70 years old and single. I’ll buy my own goddamn diamond ring. i don’t need to be married. being single is great. being loved is great. as long as i have a good attitude and a wonderful group of friends and my family, I’m good. did i mention that being single has helped me remember and spend more time with my family? not like a ton of time, but I’m making an effort! but back to my rant: even if i don’t get married (which I’m totally still open to BTW, I’m just saying it’s OK if i don’t get married too!) I’d like to have one kid in the future. just one. preferably a girl so i can dress us up in matching outfits and Chanel bags. unless two or three babies grow inside me at the same time. then whatever happens happens.

but the bottom line is, i do want to fall in love again. i want to meet someone who gets me and loves me and makes me laugh and vice versa. i just want someone who inspires me and is faithful and my best friend who I’m attracted to. i want us to be passionate about each-other and have great sex and epic kisses. i want to make out for hours and hold his face in my hands. i want us to make each-other feel safe. for us to make each-others life BETTER. i want him to want to hold me and take care of me cuz i’m not so tough. i don’t care how many herpes, rape, or aids jokes i’ve made on this thing…. that isn’t me. I’m a fragile fucking little girl, just like all girls are. grown up or not. i want to love a boy and hug him and see movies with him and hear about his day and go on long drives and…. well…..lot’s of stuff.

and in the mean time, i don’t want to make out with creeps who aren’t worthy of putting their privates in my privates. i feel too sensitive to let people get close enough to have a tawdry make-out with me. i feel too precious. it’s like I’m treating myself with more respect than i ever have. i used to be free’er with the make-outs. which sucks, cuz when you’re more choosy, you end up home watching TV and taking baths  MORE than you would if you WEREN’T as choosy. but that’s OK. choosy is cooler.

but when’s it gonna happen? when will i meet someone? will someone ever love me again who i feel the same way about? I’m such a control freak. i wanna know everything! when? how? where? who? but that’s not how it works. i like to plan and make lists and know what’s going on all the time. but with this, i have no clue.

people think this blog is about me writing about dudes i fuck. well, that’s not entirely true. it’s about the thoughts i have around past dating experiences/sexual encounters etc. my over thinking and neurosis during. it’s lists and videos and heightened stories to make people laugh. it’s never just one thing and it’s not as simple or crass as ‘she interviews dudes and fucks them’ or ‘she writes about fucking dudes’ even though i hear people explain my blog to me like this all the time. I’m actually very sensitive and romantic. people ask me if guys are scared to date me because of my blog. god, probably. but i hope not. not the right guy.

I’m not even boycrazy anymore. i mean, yes i am- duh. but it’s more like ‘people’ crazy. i love to people watch. i love to talk about/think about falling in love all the time. it’s universal. it brings people together. it’s what matters. it’s what makes the world go round. movies and books are written about it. babies are born from it or lacking it.

i love to talk to people during boycrazy radio. i love to flirt. but I’m not desperate. being ‘boycrazy’ is not code for being desperate or a slut. but what’s a slut anyway? if men we’re judged by the same standards as women, wouldn’t MOST men be sluts? i KNOW! totally! i won’t FULLY get into the whole double standard thing. it’s disgusting. but whatever.

back to falling in love. the last relationship i was in lasted for two months and ended in February. i met him last new years eve. it wasn’t right for me, and i wasn’t ready. and now, all i know is that it would be nice to at least have my sights on someone. to have someone to be excited about. but i don’t.

tonight i am strongly considering just staying in. i don’t want to be frantic. i just want to be still and quiet and calm and get inspired. i want to get grounded for the new year. i want to write my new years resolutions, and watch cozy holiday movies and rom coms. i want to box up all the clothes and shit i never use/wear, and get rid of it! get it the fuck out of my life. i want to write down story ideas and all my dreams that i hope to accomplish in the new year and many years to come. life goals. I’m actually craving starting yoga! that’s never been me! i want to see movies at the arclight by myself all the time- like I’ve been doing the last four days straight. i want to go steam at the Korean spa!

right now I’m more Alexi crazy/career crazy, than ‘boycrazy’. and I’m gonna trust that the right guy/love will find me. cuz nothing good comes from desperation or trying to force or chase something. i want to be chased. i want ‘him’ to find me. and even though i already know that ‘love always finds you when you’re not looking/when you least expect it’…. i just hope he’s funny when he finds me.

happy new year.

FOR DUDES ONLY- How to for SURE blow it with a GREAT girl (part 1):

1. Talk about other girls in front of her while on a date.

2. tell her you’re planning a extensive trip to Thailand. And when she says ‘oh. Are you into Asian food and sightseeing?’ Just say ‘no. Not at all.’ Then wink at a little boy and change the subject.

3. don’t pay. ESPECIALLY on your FIRST date!

4. tell her you have an std.

5. look at yourself in the mirror every chance you get.

6. comment on how she’s eating too much.’Wow! you can really eat a lot for a girl.’

7. neg her as MUCH as possible.

10. tell her you have mom issues.

11. don’t bathe for days, then play an intense/killer game of dodge ball, RIGHT before she goes down on you.

12. smoke.

13. be bad in bed.

14. NEVER go down on her.

15. eat raw onions and garlic on your date….especially if it’s leading up to your FIRST kiss!

16.  do drugs.

17. tell her you love strip clubs.

18. tell her you’ve been to a prostitute.

19. admit to having hit your ex girlfriend.

20. tell her you never wanna have kids.

Make-Out Vortex:

There’s nothing greater than time flying by while making out in a car with a boy. Once upon a time, after a bizarro date watching stand up comedy and a super creepy ventriloquist (are they ever anything but creepy?), I walked back to my car with the boy I’d been seeing for the past month. It was raining out so I suggested we sit in my car to be warm and wait for him to sober up before he got back in his own car.

After listening to his drunken tirade about his disappointment and disgust with the stand up comics we’d seen that night and their lack of talent/obvious ambition ONLY FOR FAME by appealing to the lowest common denominator using dick jokes and racial stereotypes, we started to make out. Finally! A tirade can only be sexy for so long before it gets BORING! and thank god, cuz the make out… it was epic! It would go in waves of silly light kissing with jokes in between, to deep intense passionate kisses. Every time we said goodbye, we’d just start kissing again.

The ONLY time I feel like I’m operating on my own timetable is 1.) when I’m on an airplane and I’m not reachable by anyone OR 2.) when I’m locked in my car/cocoon with a boy with beautiful lips who holds my face and looks into my eyes while hours fly by and all we can hear is each others breath, our lips touching, and the banter of whatever we feel like talking about in that moment. Thoughts about life, people, observations we’ve made about each other, teasing, etc.

These encounters, when you’re HAPPY to be partaking in them, don’t exist in real time. They are on another level. You have traveled into a make-out vortex. Party of two. But they DO make you sleepy for when you have to be up early the next day for REAL life. But it’s worth heavy eyelids and dark circles. That’s what coffee and make up is for. This is what songs are written about and movies are made of.

And even though the romantic magic of that night faded soon after, nights like these are to be treasured. They shape & shade your life, and make the time you spend on this planet WAY more magical than if you’d just stayed home, trolled facebook, or watched The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills…. even though that IS a really good show.

And if you’re lucky, maybe a fling that’s fizzled can at least remain/turn into a friendship. maybe even one that lasts forever. who knows? but the  the world just got a bit smaller.

not that you should/need to sexualize stuff with everyone you meet in the hopes of making a new friend and making the world smaller. not at all, JESUS, focus people!

xo/i love you