the ANTI love & relationship list:

1. i don’t want to let someone get close enough to see my flaws. its better not to let people get close to you. Cuz when you do, they see you when you’re weak and pick you apart.

2. i don’t want to get jealous or feel threatened.

3. I don’t want anyone to get bored with me or take me for granted.

4. i don’t want to have to compromise or do anything I don’t want to do, go somewhere I don’t wanna go, hang out with people I don’t wanna hang out with… and then be made to feel or look like an asshole because of it.

5. i don’t wanna worry or care or be in a position where it matters what someones friends and/or family think of me.

6. i never want to feel alone when i’m next to someone i’m supposed to love, who’s supposed to love me.

7. i don’t want to eat whenever the person i’m dating is eating.

8. i don’t want to forget about my responsibilities and who i am because i’m so overcome with YOU!

9. i don’t want to stay up till 5am every night and not get any sleep and be too sick and tired to get my work done because i’ve made you the priority. and even if i don’t think i’m making you the priority, my time spent with you has a detrimental affect on me.

10. i don’t want to be forced to look at all my flaws and all the emotional shit that comes up in me (reflected in the person i love) that i can only see when i love someone. i don’t want to feel all the rage and unresolved abandonment issues i have yet to deal with that i can only feel when i’m in love with someone.

11. i don’t want to feel a need to change a guy i’m dating. i know i shouldn’t, but i sometimes do. i don’t want to have to dress someone like a doll if i’m not crazy about his style, but i will feel compelled. i don’t want to have to battle the 2 sides of myself; the one that says ‘he’s not me. he’s his own person. let him be and do and wear whatever he wants. respect that.’ and the other side of me that says; ‘i could SO up his game! i do this for a living. i have really good taste. he probably doesn’t even care that much, he’s a dude. i could so up his game by having him incorporate a few key pieces into his wardrobe such as: a green apc hooded military green parka, james dean esque thin white cotton crew neck t-shirts, white high top converse, crisp apc dark denim straight leg jeans, Levis simple dark blue patch pocket jeans, a white button down shirt, a vertical striped blue and white button down shirt, a black crew neck pullover sweater, a black cardigan, an off white/cream cardigan, suede sand stone desert boots, brown suede desert boots, white keds, an electric or navy blue cardigan, a brooks brothers tailored suit, a slender black tie, a pink and white vertical thin striped button down shirt, a light pink button down shirt, solid hot pink socks, solid purple socks, black and white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, etc.’

this is my problem right? but lots of girls care about what their man wears and don’t feel guilty about wanting to cajole him into wearing certain things. but why do i feel so conflicted? cuz i know that spiritually none of this matters, right? right. and yet i have very superficial/strong feelings and opinions about things. i just do. and i know i’m right. and whoever the dude in question is would only benefit from my suggestions. but would he feel like he’s a pussy if he were to take my advice? or would he be more of a pussy if he got offended and ego-y? i think the latter. he’s the dude. he can be solid on who he is and let the girl act out and be all girly and just laugh about how serious she takes it all. at least that’s what a perfect scenario would be for me.

12. i don’t want everyone who sees us together to think they have me all figured out: ‘oh, that’s Alexi. she’s so and so’s girlfriend.’ i’m my own person! i want to be unattainable and a mystery and sexy and not some girl who’s put in a box and figured out and all taken for granted.

13. i don’t want to miss out on someone who may be better for me.

14. i don’t want to feel like i’m settling and being a fool to jump into something with someone just cuz they like me. even if i do like them too.

15. i don’t want to miss out on experiences with other people: sexual, non sexual, and just intimate exchanges in general.

16. i suffer from the ‘there’s always someone better’ syndrome. or do i? i don’t know what’s more important; finding someone who’s rich and well known and handsome and successful who treats me well (which is some weird sick twisted standard/ideal that’s ingrained in women who live in los Angeles and other major cities what with the fame and and tabloid and youth obsession more intense than ever before) or just being with someone who is low-key and a good person and kind, who loves me. can’t you have it all?

17. a part of me is so anti relationship because i feel like relationships are for people who are weak. i have bizarro thoughts such as: ‘george clooney is a notorious bachelor. not needing anyone/being too good to settle is the epitome of how to be. relationships and marriage are for the people who don’t have the better option of living like clooney.’ i’m sick aren’t i? this is my problem, isn’t it?

18. i don’t want to see you be weak. it’s unattractive to me. i can be weak on my own time.

19. i vacillate between 1. not trusting someone who would want to be with me and thinking that there must be something wrong with him (self-esteem and worth wise) cuz i’m not enough or something. and 2. thinking i’m hot shit and that the dude i’m dating must not be good enough for me. i can do this with the same person, week to week. it’s exhausting… for me. and him too probably. not like i would say any of this to his face. but given my weird behavior, he would probably totes pick up on it and  be annoyed/confused/and spent from it all.

20. i don’t want to be bossy.

21. I’m terrified you’re gonna get mad at me.

22. I’m terrified that you’ll have so much of an affect on me and my mood that you’ll have power over me, because I’ll actively give it to you!

23. i don’t want to try to control your life and take it on like it’s my responsibility. Even if you’re not asking, I have a tendency to take this on, and I don’t like that about me, but it only comes up when I’m with you (in a relationship).

24. i’m terrified you’ll reduce me to some ‘ol ball and chain’ stereotype.

25. i’m terrified that I’ll start looking at myself through your eyes and see what my dad saw in women. It wasn’t good.

26. i don’t want to make you my dad; my dad called women cunts and belittled people, etc. and not only am I scared you might do that to me, I’m more scared that I’ll do that to you!

27. i don’t want to be mad at you because you’re out with your friends and happy.

———————————————————————————————————

I’m so terrified of being in a relationship. i create all these battles for myself in my head. i do desperately want to belong to someone and be loved and cherished and treasured, but another huge part of me is fine being alone and wants to remain unattainable and a mystery forever. what do i do? what’s important? i’m at odds with myself. am i only making up all these rules, and boundaries and expectations because i’m trying to keep people at arm’s length? is it my ego just working overtime trying to create separation? the logical part of me says yes. the adult part of me knows that all that matters and what’s really important is to be with someone i like and who i enjoy spending time with, who makes me laugh, who likes me and who treats me well . but the damaged little girl inside me is scared of being vulnerable and being abandoned and tricked, seduced and betrayed…..

i’ve met and been with well-known, powerful men. Skinny men, chubby men, model boys, poor boys, rich boys. quiet boys, loud boys. funny, unfunny, boring, and charasmatic boys. good dressers, bad dressers. I’ve seen good things and bad in all of them. I just want to laugh and feel safe and be with someone who’s confidant and capable. i want to feel content and calm and motivated and supported and understood… all at the same time.

help. i’m fine. i love you. look at me. don’t look at me.

xoxo

some things i think about…

1. no matter how many mani/pedis I get, I’m probably never gonna pick up Vietnamese.

2. Just a year ago I was way more rigid, saying things like ‘I have enough friends. I’m at capacity.’ And now I look at everyone and every situation as an opportunity to make a new friend and for the world to become smaller.

3. I finally realized why pinkberry is the best of the froyo places (i used to totally not even LIKE it), it’s because they put the yogurt in the cup FOR you and you don’t have to wait behind creepy dirty patrons and watch them touch the spigot with one dirt hand while they hold their fucking dog in the other. Egads! Gadzooks! ps: it’s not frozen yogurt… it’s PINKBERRY! pps: have you tried the new salted caramel, and/or peanut butter flavors? i have.

4. it’s like the minute I see someone use the wrong ‘your’ when they mean ‘you’re’ (or vice versa)… I just can’t take anything (no matter how valid) they say or do seriously.

5. sometimes I look at women who are preggers or who just had a baby and I think: ‘fuck, they look busted! I mean, I already have my own body, face and  insomnia issues NOT being pregnant. do I ever really wanna do this?’

6. I probably want to kiss you.

7. I can’t even fantasize (touch myself) about a guy if he has a girlfriend/is in a relationship. I need to at least think the fantasy could somehow come true on a slightly logical level.

8. I’m not a feminist? how dare you! I’ve never relied (and WILL NEVER RELY) on a dude to take care of me; I don’t subscribe to the deeply engrained belief system that a woman needs to get married/have a baby/or have a man to feel complete; i know/believe that women are more than a body or a fantasy for a man (i just wish all women knew that); I say what I want; I love women; I believe they can and should do anything and everything and are exceptional; I’m constantly shocked by and proud of how much women achieve operating at such a high level of expectation (not only can an amazing woman be smart, funny, talented, and successful… but she can run a company, excel at her career, and make & raise babies too… achieving ALL this while donning a stylish/sexy outfit, matching bra & panties, perfect hair/makeup, waxed and shaved body parts, and in heels too even!; I listen; I try to help; I don’t judge; I have great female friends; and the fact that I even do what I do and lead by example by being brave enough to put myself out there/say whatever it is I want to say… is a testament to that! so shut the fuck up!

9. sometimes I get mad about little things. like the other day, I went to Baja fresh and I asked for no cheese on my Americano chicken taco. but they gave me cheese anyway. secretly I was so happy the mistake was made, cuz I love cheese and only say ‘hold the cheese’ for calorie conscious reasons. then the next day, I went in and didn’t say ‘no cheese’ cuz I in fact wanted cheese and was surrendering to my whim like a champ… but they held the cheese anyway! I decided to not say anything because this mistake was totally in my favor. I also decided that they probably made the mistake because I must have come across as a girl who clearly doesn’t eat cheese… and that was really flattering. either that or they think I’m fat and don’t think i should eat cheese. either way, this will not stop me from going back tomorrow.

10. a boy said this to me once, and it didn’t make sense at the time. and when it finally did make sense, I didn’t know if I agreed. but now I think I do. here’s what he said: ‘men love who they are attracted to and women are attracted to who they love.’ what do you think?

PS: follow me on twitter @imboycrazy

PPS: leave me a message on boycrazy voicemail 888 666-2045 tell me a secret, ask me a question, say something neat. 

I LOVE YOU

your body tells a story:

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

some things i think about:

 

 

1. Sometimes when I hang out with other girls, I feel so happy and free and understood and cozy-: I think I can eat whatever I want with them and not gain weight! Maybe it’s because I’m eating out of nervousness, but I really don’t think so. I eat because I feel like we’re in a safety cocoon/ alternate universe/ bubble of trust… where no one will gain weight. sometimes I’ll even decide I’m as skinny as the girls I’m with and that my metabolism works as fast as theirs. or maybe I just eat cuz I’m hungry.

2. Why don’t Triple-A road side assistance guys just rob/steal cars for a living instead? They’re so good at breaking into cars!

3. For some reason, whenever I hug someone in public, I always imagine the hamburglar popping up out of nowhere and stealing something out of my tote. He’s wearing the hat and mask and everything. This has been going on for years. It’s real enough for me to actually stop hugging and look over my shoulder.

4. If I were a child molester; I would open a camp, dance class, toy store, run an ice cream truck/daycare, or be a teacher! yikes, be careful who you drop your kids off with! people lurk where there’s something to gain. gross.

5. Sometimes I feel like dating/being a single woman is more like a game of avoiding an army of dicks from entering me.

6. Sometimes I have a problem; I’m more concerned with casting a spell on a guy and collecting his love before I decide if I even like him.

7. Why is it that Lil Wayne can sing a song saying ‘I wish I could fuck every girl in the world’, but it’s still not socially accepted for woman to think that way about men?

8. Why is it that the guy you want to text you doesn’t, but the dude you don’t give a shit about won’t stop? BUT, if the guy you actually liked texted you as much as the guy you don’t like, wouldn’t you think he was a pussy and be turned off? Probably, right?

9. I hate when people say really obvious things to me about me: ‘wow, you’re holding a lot of stuff.’ ‘wow, that’s a lot of food.’ ‘that’s a red dress.’ it’s always insulting and passive aggressive. just get away from me!

10. The worst is when you’re at the movies and you think you’re all set and not surrounded by anyone annoying… and then the stragglers roll in! Fuck!

11. What am i looking for? what do i ultimately want? I want my future husband (and by husband, I probably just mean ‘uuber serious relationship or father of my child’) to know BETTER than me! i want him to make me feel safe. i want him to be my best friend. i want him to ‘get’ me. to get ‘it’. i want him to be handsome, tall, sexy, funny, smart, great in bed, a gentleman, loyal, and successful. i want to be fascinated by him. i want to respect him and believe in what he does. and vice versa.

12. Today I saw such a sexy interesting guy. He either looked borderline homeless OR on the verge of being a rich famous genius. And even though I saw him muttering to himself, to me it just made him more interesting.

13. Most of the numbers in my phone are people I’d be happier not to see. They aren’t friends so much as people I don’t have relationships with anymore and am avoiding.

14. Sometimes I want to subscribe to ‘O’ magazine, but then I get so overwhelmed about already having missed so many tips and words of wisdom from O’s previous issues- that I get all kerjumbled and decide against it. Does Oprah ever recycle her info/advice/guides to life/helpful tips/or stories? She must! I hope so! I’m here and ready to absorb all of it. All I’m guilty of is not wanting to miss a beat. I love you Oprah.

15. I’m searching for answers to questions I don’t know I’m asking.

16. Sometimes I wonder if I’m too good at/comfortable with/and happy being single, and that I won’t know how to make room for someone else in my life… if/when i find them… or when he finds me?

xoxo

follow me on twitter if you don’t mind/aren’t grossed out by the suggestion @imboycrazy

i love you

 

blind date NYC:

 

I was sad the night he was leaving, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was hung over. then, the day AFTER he’d left, I was still sad- but wondering if it were possible to be hung over TWO days after having had alcohol. OR, had I gotten used to him? Yeah. I liked him. He was neat, and weird, and normal, and a nerd, and kewl, and insecure, and self deprecating, and a filth mouth, and romantic. He was an interesting mix of new school and old school. and in the VERY short time i’d known him, I even saw the little boy version of him show through once or twice. But he was definitely a man. a gentleman. a little crazy. style wise; he was post apocalyptic-y/ comme des garcon-y, and yet he was approachable all at once.

I’d met him a month prior. A girlfriend of mine in LA (where i live) sent me a text while I was visiting NYC for a few days. Knowing how boycrazy i am, and probs wanting to live a bit vicariously through me (she’s in a relationship) she told me to look up her guy friend on the interweb and tell her if she should set us up on a date! She said he only liked tall girls. And I’m tall. I’m 5’11. Immediately I liked the ONE j-peg I’d quickly seen of him… after a VERY light google search. I didn’t wanna go deep. Just light enough to get an idea of what he looked like so I could tell our mutual friend if she should make it happen. yeah, I liked what he looked like. In the pic he was wearing a suit and standing next to someone successful. That was enough for me! Done and done!

He looked like a debonair, distinguished, dapper dude from the 1920’s. I liked his eyes. Later, he’d refer to them as ‘beady brown rat eyes’ – more than once too, which made me sad. had someone said something mean about his eyes when he was little? a schoolmate? an ex? i wondered where the defensive statement stemmed from. he was kind of right though, but I loved them. funny how they’re the first thing that drew me in/made me immediately attracted; his eyes seemed familiar. they suggested a hint of naughtiness. I guess I like ‘beady brown rat eyes’? but to me, they were just kinda squinty. He looked smart, and badass. He looked sexy and possibly/hopefully deep… and maybe a tad sarcastic even. He looked like he should always be wearing a tuxedo and a top hat- NO CANE though… cuz that would be too much I think.

my friend gave him my number and he texted me the next day: soon enough to make me feel attended to, but not TOO soon to come across as over eager! Dude had a life and/or maybe just fortitude- and I appreciated that! Then again, I was leaving Wednesday, and time was of the essence… did he know that? my friend probs mentioned that. who knows? who cares?! I loved how adult and ‘on it’ he was. He seemed so assertive and grown up- even just over text!

We were both crazy busy, and the only time he could meet the next day (Tuesday) was during the day, and I was leaving Wednesday. So we made a plan for Tuesday at 12:15pm. I’d only have till 1:15pm to meet with him, under the guise of him showing me his studio and what he was working on. What was this, a bro-sesh? A hang sesh? A blind date with a very strict time frame and no label? YIKES! Luckily, I was feeling especially open and brave and fearless; so whatever this was, it could at least be an opportunity to meet a new person, make a new friend, walk through being scared, and get a new story to tell… Right? As long as the story wasn’t the intro to my eulogy or obituary, I’d be fine, right/yeah! A plan was made!

I got there a bit early, so I went into some weird jenky sephora like store next door to kill some time. They actually had lots of neat stuff I could’ve TOTALLY seen myself wasting money on. But I was way too nervous to shop responsibly or even impulse buy! I felt someone leering at me, and not in a good way! Was it the boy of my dreams?

Oh. No. It was a pudgy bloated shop boy with a manic panicked mohawk and so much hair spray and/or gel in his hair I couldn’t believe it. plus he was like forty! Good for him. Good for him? Immediately, to diffuse any sexual tension he might have been harboring for me/for ‘us’… I told him all about the blind date I was on my way to. He rolled his eyes and said ‘lame. You should cancel and go out with me.’ hmm, had I taken him up on his offer, would he have really left work early for me? What a sweetheart! But I seriously doubt it.

Oh shit, it was 12:10. i had to go! As I ran out, manic panic dude asked me for my number. I looked back and muttered something about finding me on facebook instead. He SCOFFED and said ‘facebook? yeah right. i don’t think so!’ Did manic panic dude just diss me? Oh well, I had somewhere to be!

(to be continued)

PS:

1. follow me on twitter

2. subscribe to me on youtube

3. leave me a voicemail message here: (888) 666-2045

tell me a secret, ask me a question, say something neat.

 

acting out (part 2):

 

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.

 

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)

A SORT OF REBUTTAL:

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.

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.