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 »

A few posts ago, i wrote about a boy I’d had an uuber awkward encounter with, entitled: ‘how to tell you’ve given the wrong guy a blow job’. he read it, we talked about it, and he said he could write his own blog post about our sexy time rendezvous from his point of view. to him, my interpretation of the night/his behavior wasn’t completely accurate or at least not the same as his.

so, in the interest of expanding my point of view and the overall point of view of this website….. i asked him to write a post about our night, from his perspective…

cuz it’s important to know there are always two sides to every story.

this what he wrote:

A SORT OF REBUTTAL

My heart sunk as I looked down to read the text from my best friend dropping “that boy crazy chick really hammered you” on me.

It had been days since our fumbling yet somewhat endearing yet somewhat terribly awkward intimate encounter and i had all but put
aside my inevitable fears of the very this very thing happening. I shook my head and started replaying the evening in question in my
head as I slowly navigated my way, heart thumping, to this post.

We’ve all done it, made a move at the intellectual actress/blogger/socialite with perfect skin and veritable oceans for eyes that you
drown in from even jpegs. A girl that seems impossibly interested in you to the point that every prodding question lends to a feeling
that you may already be conducting an interview for her site. Her almost intimidating confidence coupled with playful sarcasm and
hypnotizing stare instantly brings up my walls… oops well I guess this is first person now. I can handle her constant barrage of
flirtatious digs at my hip attire, living situation, employment, etc… I’m no cretin, and we give it back and forth ongoing throughout the
night… but the sensitive, dare I say self conscious, manchild inside me is making note of the things she notices, even if they are
meant in good humor, she noticed them enough to mention. Already subconsciously getting knocked down a peg or five masculinity
(those pegs being in short supply for me anyway) I compensate by turning off and shutting away my soft gooey center.

Nevertheless, things are progressing swimmingly, it’s exhilarating to feel matched on a cerebral level with a beauitiful girl, and as the
night progresses from nightclub, to afterparty, to her car, to my house, to my room, to my bed –my mind/id/libido/machismo all start
to talk at once. I felt that this could maybe be one of those impulsive/fun/modern sexual encounters that doesn’t emotionally maim
me but leaves both of us feeling like romantic if-not-a-bit-reckless libertines. But it could be a horrible trap, a bait and switch, where I
allow this siren into my holiest of holies only to be exposed as a lesser lover?

“Is this girl is the enemy?”
We are making out.
“She has probably been with far better lovers than me.”
We are removing clothes.
“I mean you don’t get a title like Boy Crazy for nothing right?”
We are making out without clothes.
“But I am a sweet lover, shes lucky to have me.”
We are not wearing clothes, that’s for sure.
“No sex yet though. That’s prudent right? OK but I still want to have fun.”

I present a brief oral report to her nether regions and then we switch and all the fellatio business begins. I’m fully floating, a fantasy has
come to fruition and I just want to focus on catching glimpses of her eyes looking up as this heavenly action is bestowed on my privates.
I feel triumphant, not in a conquering misogynistic way but in a “I have touched myself to her photo before and she likes me” way. I start
to feel like the event is climaxing and I somehow convey this to her, she responds something I don’t understand due to the cock in her
head and moments later the deed is done.

A SCOWL!
A SPIT!
REALLY?

Did I offend her? It was quite a statement just opening ones mouth and allowing all manners of saliva and seminal fluids to come
splattering down on my new sheets… I was instantly at odds with her and myself. No discussion. Being not really that offended
and in a sort of post-cum zombie stupor, legs still in tremor, I step back, and in the same sarcastic playful manner we had been
insulting each other all night, express disdain for her action and make a big show of retrieving a rag and sort of mopping up my mess.

She seemed amused and made mention of her desire to also orgasm, to which I was in favor. I needed to recharge though, especially
after the late night we spent previous this dalliance. Sitting half dazed trying to assemble words for a plan or an action or a.. and then
she hugs me, this is sweet! This is totally a not hurtful encounter, I feel a cold wet strand of hair caress my shoulder, and in the same
aforementioned tone, mention that she may have my seed in her bangs.

I lay down grotesquely, comfortably naked on my bed and start to consider how fucking perfect it will feel to have her body against
mine all night, if she wishes to stay and snuggle. I rise to see her dressing, discussing parking restrictions, searching for a shirt,
looking down at me every few moments with a not entirely discernible look. I suppose if she wishes to leave she must, I should
have said something, anything to her, but my male cum purged visage is allowing her have her way.

A few more sentences are exchanged, I decline to dress and leave my house to walk her to her car, a bit surprised she even asked.
I wasn’t a portrait of chivalry at this point but her blatantly confronting it felt bizarre considering my current fading state. But no matter,
she is entitled to these strong actions, she is a strong woman, and I knew (I didn’t) what I was getting myself into.

She leaves, we speak through text message the next few day things about things unrelated to the tryst.

Heart thumping, navigating to this luridly titled post…

…at least she said my private was big.

By: boycrazy on May 23, 2011
Tags: rebuttal, thoughts and stories
70 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 »

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.

By: boycrazy on December 31, 2010
Tags: new years eve, rants, thoughts and stories
69 Comments »

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

By: boycrazy on December 17, 2010
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
20 Comments »

it used to be so exciting to just be near a boy. even some boy with a bad attitude sitting next to me in 5th period algebra class. I used to be sooo afraid to even raise my hand to answer a question that I actually knew the fucking answer to- in fear this boy would think I was lame. Then one overcast day, when people feel more cozy and romantic than usual-even in jr high and high school- we ran into each-other in the parking lot while we were both about to ditch class. But instead of me going to the mall, and him going to do god knows what (maybe buy more white out or safety pins for his backpack) Idfk- we just sat in his old Volvo and smoked cigarettes while it rained.

it was like some unspoken agreement. we felt something for each-other. we needed to be in each-others presence. in that moment we were like magnets, drawn to each-other. it was the best feeling ever. i was so nervous and had broken out in a cold sweat. i hoped he couldn’t hear my heart beating like crazy. i hoped i didn’t say anything dumb. i hoped my breath was ok. i hoped he couldn’t see my nose running.

he put on some weird death metal mix tape that I pretended to like, cuz I really didn’t want him to have any more reasons to stop likeing me or more specifically putting his attention on me. For gods sake- I already had questionable style, wasn’t ‘punk’ like him, was way too bubbly and loud, and doubted my looks. The tape stopped and he put our chairs as far back as they could go so the security dude wouldn’t see us. He smelled like dirty. I smelled like herbal essence and bath and body works vanilla body splash. But they say opposites attract, right? I mean, is that even really true? Now that I’m older and wiser- I’ve found that it has to be a very specific/perfect blend of opposition.

He leaned into me, grabbed the back of my head and pushed my mouth to his mouth. Our teeth clanked. There was nothing sexy about it- but I was still wet. Why? Cuz I had lusted after this dirty, skinny, smart ass, cold, 10th grade punk kid since the first moment I saw him. he was so cute. so sexy. so angry for reasons i would never know, that were probably just an act so he could have an extreme high school identity. or maybe he had been beaten up or molested by his family. either/or, I wanted him to love me; To choose me; To think I was the best. And his tongue in my mouth meant that. Right?

Our tongues circled each-other. He pulled down my shirt, stretching out the neck. annoying! But i didn’t wanna kill the mood by saying ‘oh great, now my crew neck’s all stretched out!’ Little did I know that later in life i wouldn’t even touch a crew neck tee, and I’d only ever wear deep v’s after American apparel presented me with that option! They’re just more flattering for a girl with boobs like me.

He licked my nipples- and bit one. I think this was for affect. Like, to be badass or something. As if he knew I’d be writing about this one day and that chomping on my nip could ONLY make the story more colorful! And in a way, he was right. But it hurt and not in a good way. It made me think he didn’t like me. Like I was being punished for letting him near me. I’m pretty sure I rewarded his biting me by letting him stick his finger in my privates. I was even wetter! Even though I was highly aware of how filthy his aggro-punk hands were! From cigarettes, painting (he was a fine arts major! Isn’t that perfect? I know!), picking his nose (I’d seen him do this in class, but i always tried to block it out) And yet, I still let him finger me. It didn’t even feel good. It wasn’t slow and deep and sensual and loving- it was hard and fast and pointy and rough! Like being fucked by a dude with a tiny, thin dick that was made out of a number one pencil , cut in half lengthwise, instead of dick tissue. Like one of those pencils you use at whole foods to write down the number of the bulk bin item you’re buying by the pound.

It was getting late. I was way too shy to even try to give this dude a blow job- and way to self conscious/smart to give him a hand job. So I pulled up my undies and got myself together. My hair was a mess. My cheeks were all flushed. And I was dripping wet. Rain pounded on the car. I didn’t want to face the torrential downpour- but I had nothing to say to this dude. It was all pheromones. I knew I wasn’t safe with him. He didn’t love me. but did i love him? no. but i was open to trying if he was. but he wasn’t. He was just one of many boys I’d try to wring approval and attention from via tawdry makouts and random hookups. A learning experience.

We didn’t talk for the rest of the year. Except for the last day of 11th grade- when, out of nowhere, he kissed me at the end of 6th period English class and we did this all over again. Again, THAT was it.

A year or two after we graduated, he called me out of the blue. We met up and went to a party. He was no longer punk. Post grad, he was emo. He looked great, but I felt even less than nothing for him. We ended up at my place, him on top of me saying- ‘I want to fuck you so bad.’ I pushed him off me, said ‘I can’t', and asked him to leave. i’d outgrown him. he represented highschool to me, and i was done with that chapter of my life. I’d graduated to another level of dude. Sure, they were still the wrong dudes. but new dudes nonetheless. I’ll get back to dating teenage boys (18/19year olds) when I’m in my forties.

By: boycrazy on November 12, 2010
Tags: erin garcia, nate harrington, photo by dan monick, thoughts and stories
29 Comments »

All I’m looking for in a girlfriend is someone I can laugh with, who looks good on my arm and makes me cooler. We should be able to tell each-other anything without boundaries or judgement! No judgement! I’d love for you to teach me to wear red lipstick. And for me to feel comfortable enough for us to have tea at fancy hotels and people watch together. I want to WANT to see movies with you, cuz I’m naturally inclined to see them alone.

And I really want to bypass the whole calling dibs on a dude thing. If we BOTH like a guy- HE’LL decide who he wants to be with. We can’t say ‘he’s off limits’ just because we laid eyes on a guy/proclaimed a dude cute/or met him first. And we should BOTH be able to be OK with the outcome of the situation and let it go if he doesn’t like me/or you. Cuz I’LL totally be ok if he doesn’t like ME. That way we can remain friends and date whoever we click with best and never have to worry about our friendship limiting us/our love life! (I know the world is large- so why do we have to share the same crush on a guy?/blah blah blah- well, because the world is also small. And like attracts like and social circles are small and facebook and twitter are only making it smaller. So stepping on eachothers toes while flirting is bound to happen. So get the fuck over it and grow up. It’s totally not personal!) and we can make other girl friend/bffs feel lame/bad about themselves for not being as evolved as we are. We should be grown ups and above petty bullshit! We may watch the real housewives together (NYC is our FAVORITE- cuz we’re new yorkers too, even if we were born and raised in la- and rarely visit NYC as of late- it’s a way of life/mentality more than anything), but we don’t emulate their nonsense and drama- We just find it entertaining in small doses and are happy shizz like that doesn’t exist in our world! We love flipping out too! And agree we would both date Jeff Lewis if we were gay men! But like, we don’t ALWAYS have to agree- this is just a perfect fantasy with room for notes and compromise. Not too much compromise though! I’d really like for this friendship to be effortless!

I want to want for us to go shopping together. I’d also like it if you loved coffee. There. I said it. And BTW, I don’t want to feel ugly or fat or less than around you. I want to have slumber parties even though we’re not thirteen. I want to be able to call you at four in the morning and know it’s OK and that I’m safe and you won’t be mad at me because you love me and you understand that I wouldn’t be calling if It wasn’t important. I want to feel understood and accepted even if I’m not perfect. I want to help throw you a  birthday party or bridal shower or bachelorette party and for you to do the same for me (be my go to) if I decide to do any of those things too. I want us to be Madonna and Gweneth, minus the weird fight they got in that is still a little unclear to me, and ultimately none of my (our) bizness.

I don’t want to make-out or for us to have a threesome. I don’t want to sexualize this. This female friendship is a safe zone. We give enough blow jobs and bad hand jobs as it is. The last thing I wanna do is learn about your clitoris. I mean, I’m sure it’s beautiful, but it’s just not for me. And you’re not even bi sexual- Let alone a lesbian. So why am I even explaining myself? Anywayzies, together we are in a safe, fun, cozy, girly bubble. We can talk about dreams and boys, and shopping, and fucking, and taking over the world. I don’t even wanna borrow your clothes. This isn’t about that! I don’t want to lend you money or borrow money, I just want to be emotional rocks for one another and to be eachothers person to be held accountable. I want to have movie marathons, and go dancing together and maybe even go on a road trip to Vegas- even though I don’t even really like Vegas- but we would go ironically and take in a Chippendale’s show, go to a strip club, see Cher. I wanna go to your house and get ready/dressed up for fancy parties together! I want us to be better off for knowing eachother and being in eachothers life.

I want your friends to like me and not be territorial/too cool for school dicks who make this forging of a friendship difficult for us! I’m awesome! what is their deal?! People don’t own people! What’s with the pack mentality? Actually, it’s cool, but let me be part of the pack first and then we can pull that shit on other people. But not really, but maybe. Cuz it feels good to feel like you’re a cooler kid and excluding lame-os. but that’s lame and we’re not in 7th grade. And it’s bad karma too. But if you MUST do that, don’t you fucking dare treat me like a lame-o!

Back to my point, I want to want us to get manicure/pedicures together. Cuz I do all of this shit alone or with whoever my current boyfriend is.and I’m sick of it. I’m ok being alone. But that’s been done. I’d like to meet the one. I’d like to meet YOU! Whoever YOU are! I don’t even know if you exist. Or if I’d like you. Or if you’d like me. I wonder if I’ll ever be comfortable enough in my skin to feel calm with another women. Comfortable enough not to worry about my facial expressions when I’m listening to your stories with intense concentration/respect/and a tiny bit of devotion that lets you know I care and you are understood and heard. People want that! Fuck, they NEED it. Do all people deserve that, is another story! I want to feel comfortable enough not to think you hate me, or are talking shit about me when I leave the room or don’t see you for a little while.

i haven’t found a potential best friend who encompasses all these things, YET! but I’ve found fragments- here and there- in different people. and maybe that’s all i’ll ever find. but at least now I’ve painted a picture for myself, so i know what I’m looking for.  xo

By: boycrazy on August 20, 2010
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
60 Comments »

i felt compelled to start the cycle again. the control of ruining myself a little, then healing, then hurting myself. like a cutter . I would look at myself naked when I’d heal and think, ‘shit! Now I have nothing to complain about. i have nothing to keep me hidden in my apartment, or feeling bad/and hating myself. i don’t have my secret project that keeps me feeling like I have control.’ So I’d eat too much, or start the cycle with tweezers again, or tune out while I went into a facebook trance while my right hand would do home surgery on my face and/or back. My controlled chaos/anxiety reliever.

Somehow with therapy and time and learning to remind myself to be nice/kind to myself or at least not so fucking ruthless (cuz if I’m not nice to myself, who else will be/why should anyone else be?) and through my therapist telling me that my issues aren’t gonna go away over night and that’s OK and to look at being kind to myself as a life long practice, that i should begin now- I’ve felt better. i have to look at being nicer to myself as a perpetual life practice from now on. it’s life work- never ending. and not to be so hard on myself, to treat myself like I’m my own daughter. he even suggested i carry a photo of myself as a kid (which i did) to basically remind myself of this daily.

My skin is kinda healing- the peel at my dermo helped, along with retin a, aczone, neutrogena grapefruit salicylic acne wash, st Ives apricot face scrub in naturally clear AND fresh skin (and no, I’m not being paid to give them shout outs (unfortunately), and meetings I had no choice but to have some self control/look nice for.

only NOW am I STARTING to date again. these dates are few and far between (at least according to my usual standards) cuz dating can be stressful and scary! plus I barely have any time. but I’ve finally slept with someone for the first time in 6 months. I’ve had some make-outs, given several blow jobs- one klunky, another I’m proud of- you know… I’m living my life!

but mainly I’m trying not to literally/figuratively pick at myself, hate what I look like, and self sabotage. when it comes to being mean to myself, I’m the worst! I always have been. no one could ever be meaner to me than i already am/have been to myself. I love to think for everyone else and decide what mean thing they may or may not be thinking of me. it’s another tactic i use to feel as though i have some control over my life. I like to assume control by beating the other person to the punch. but it’s a lot of work, energy, isn’t always accurate, and keeps me from getting close to people- Usually men, but now that i think about it, probably girls too! is that why i have so few female friends? well that AND the fact that i can’t sexualize stuff with woman- the way i can with a man, and the fact that my dad raised me to be a bit of a female misogynist, but I’m really trying to over come that. also, girls call dibs on guys, and that’s annoying! and girls can be catty and mean when all i want them to do is love me like the sister i never had. but i can be catty too, and I’m probably expecting way too much too soon. but ALSO, now that I’m getting it all out there, woman get mad so easily over tiny details, sometimes not all the time. anyway, this is a whole other post for another day.

The point IS, if there even IS a point, is that I feel like the fog has finally lifted. I’m in therapy. I have a meal delivery service that helps me feel like I have control over my eating habits (cuz I still can’t buy a box of cereal without eating the entire thing.) I have no desire for a boyfriend, but for the first time in 6 months I have moments when I think ‘it would be nice to be in love with the RIGHT person- a guy who’s my best friend who shares the same sense of humor and life goals as me, so we can be partners and make eachothers lives better. But those thoughts are FLEETING and only when I’m pms’ing. But they are around, which is a start.

but mainly I’m work obsessed/driven/and ambitious. which is great! am i right sistahs? where my ladies at? barf. you know what i mean!

i’m happy to be single. i need to be single. I’ve wanted to be single. being single is one of the best things in the world! and with my being an only child, I’m very good at being on my own.  sure, all this could go out the window tomorrow and i could fall in love and change my mind to ‘wow! being in love is the best thing in the world!’ (cuz it is too) but today, this is where I’m at. the tweezing has stopped, I’m writing again, and there are many more blow jobs/sexy tawdry love affairs in my future. i love you.

By: boycrazy on August 13, 2010
Tags: rants, thoughts and stories
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