me on nye 2010:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

happy new year.

Make-Out Vortex:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xo/i love you

highschool parking lots:

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.

the perfect BFFF (best female friend forever):

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

‘where have i been?’ – a manic rant (part 2 of 2):

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.

‘where have i been?’ – a manic rant (part 1 of 2):

i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my stories and rants have been lacking lately. I’ve been seriously blocked. blocked by breakups, unresolved feelings, a death in the family, five of my most serious ex boyfriends calling me out of the blue all in the same week; one of which i lived with & was engaged to- who called me up to meet for tea and then told me he’s having a baby with his new gf! and I’m OK with all of it. but i was stuck when it came to writing. maybe too many things happened for me to process. i collected too many stories and i didn’t know where to begin. the following is one of many rants to come- just some of the bullshit at the forefront of my mind. i love you:

I’m single again. I have been since the end of February. And immediately after that breakup, my back broke out bacne styles! and when it was on the verge of healing, I would sabotage myself by picking at my face, back, eating too much, tweezing my bikini line, shaving everything off (and by everything– I’m vaguely referring to the hair on my privates. And by privates I mean… how dare you!/my vagina.) I did this cuz it was my way of making sure I didn’t allow myself to be naked in front of anyone. There’s no way I’d fuck some dude if I had bacne and/or some botched vadge quaffe. No fucking way! personally, i can’t have sex if i don’t feel sexy/like how i look.) i was self sabotaging.

This was also my way of having some sort of control over myself/in my life/over my feelings. Some kind of calm and order within the chaos i wasn’t even aware i was feeling.

Even though he doesn’t know it/won’t believe it/whatevs– I was extremely jolted by how quickly I fell in and out of lust/love with my last boyfriend of two months. wait, is two months only considered a fling? oh well, who knows/who cares?! Either way, it was something intense and I hated that my feelings for him changed. I went in with such an open heart and the guy was and is great, just not for me- so when I realized it wasn’t right for me anymore and the timing for a relationship at all was bad in general (but is that really a real excuse even? doesn’t the right person negate timing issues? no! you know what? i truly believe timing is a real determining factor in whether or not a relationship will work. ‘timing’ in regards to how busy you are or how emotionally developed you are in that particular time in your life), it manifested in the worst way.

I didn’t cheat, I didn’t punch him in the face, I didn’t try to run him over with my car or anything- Instead I forced him to witness me wrestle with myself. suffer my annoying girly shenanigans of trying to force myself to stay in something that wasn’t right for me anymore, with one foot in and one foot out.  I was confusing, i was full of mixed messages, closing off emotionally, picking fights, trying to make him break up with me. I just didn’t know what to do! I was buying myself time cuz even I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how I felt. I didn’t want to NOT be into it anymore. i DIDN’T want to be over him! i didn’t want to feel this way. i wanted to feel like i did before, head over heels crazy about him. but i just didn’t anymore. and once that’s gone, you sure as hell can’t force it/re-create it/make it up/or fake it. it’s an invisible halo that hangs over two people and once it evaporates- it ain’t coming back muthah-fuckah. or at least, very rarely does it come back.

The dude was/is a sweetheart and a babe. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and I was shocked how quickly my mind could change. But it did. And when that happens, it’s chemistry, you can’t fake it. It fucking sucks. (yeah, i know this chunk was REDUNDANT- a lot of this story is! calm down!)

When it ended, I was relieved for BOTH of us because it was out on the table and I didn’t have to waste his time anymore. I threw myself into work. sure, I had a make-out here and there, but no desire to get naked in front of anyone. I made myself a little bit more ugly every day- literally picking on my self and thinking thoughts like: you’ll be lovable when- your skin clears up, when you lose ten pounds, when you’re successful, when you have more money, when you have a nicer car, in an alternate reality, in a time that may never come and you might just waste your whole life waiting for it- but keep waiting. I’ll keep you posted me! i thought these things and way worse things about myself/for myself (and every so often, still do) every time I looked in the mirror. And when my scabs/pimples healed and hair grew back or god forbid I actually liked my body (which is way more rare than me hating it) i wouldn’t know how to feel. i was confused. it felt uncomfortable to feel OK with myself. (to be continued)

remember that guy i met on facebook i told you about? (part 3/the final krazy rant)

the closeness i had experienced, followed by a dude jumping on a plane and being aloof (aka: living his life) made me feel like a lil abandoned baby. but this was way way way more rooted in/all about my daddy issues, than the actual dude i slept with!

suddenly i was forced to feel stuff that i wouldn’t have felt, had i not had sex to begin with! maybe if it had been with someone who wanted to date me, and was sticking around, that would have been something else! but i set myself up to feel lonely. if the dude liked me and was sticking around- i would have just felt more powerful and my ego wouldn’t have been bruised cuz i would have been the one in charge of the ignoring/dismissal. hmm. something to think about. after all, i said i didn’t want anything more than a hook up (to him and to myself) god damn it! I’m much too smart for this bullshit. i actually give other people really good advice!

bottom line: i had sex with the dick pic guy. there was no love connection here whatsoever! so what the fuck was my problem? it was an epic night. and if i just looked at it for what it was, and left it at that, I’d be fine. but I’m not as tough as i thought. sex with someone you don’t like, someone you do like, and someone you love is all powerful. someone will always be affected. giving yourself away, even when you think you’re taking something you can handle in the moment, is not as easy as it seems… for me anyways.

if this experience can be used for anything, it will be to help me learn what i can and can’t handle in my life right now. i am too easily rattled. even if only for a few days… that’s a few days too many. the majority of the time, sex affects me. I’m sensitive. i feel stuff. things linger in my brain, and i over-think. nothing with me is light or casual when i let someone into my vadge-hole people. so don’t even try it!

i may not be a sweetly sad faced, overweight, African American girl, but i too am precious!

all i know is this; I’ve had sex with cold dudes who are blatantly emotionally unavailable and sex with guys who are still emotionally unavailable- but really good at making a girl feel cozy. and right now, i too am just as emotionally unavailable! but, ultimately, both make me feel more lonely AFTER the encounter than i felt before! regardless, i took my sexxxy times medicine and I’m prob good for another four months. but even AFTER that; no more casual sexxing for me! especially with trollers and dick pickers! yikes.

i have to be much more careful with myself. because even though my mind thinks I’m tough and it’s all good, i end up weaker in the end. depleted of energy. this also goes for me leading guys on, who i know i don’t like, just so i can feel wanted. it’s rude and thoughtless. sex is not casual. that being said: make-outs ARE! I might be sensitive and more grown up now… but I’m not dead!

this fling represented something bigger for me. it made me think about how different experiences can be; what i want, definitely do not want, and behavior of mine that I’d like to change. behavior that, up until a few days ago, i didn’t even realize i engaged in. in a perfect world, my future won’t involve men ever sending me a picture of their dick again. and certainly not with me sleeping with them- like a reward or something. but the sex was fun, and i don’t regret it. even the part when i found out he’s a blogger too, and him writing about me!

he’s not my future husband or anything. JUST a random encounter! but totally blog-worthy and a tool to be used for self reflection and growth.

i just realized why I’m boy crazy; I’m boy crazy because every time i see/meet a new dude- i have hope. hope because it’s another chance for me to find love. a love that’s unconditional and stronger than the love i never got from my father. wahhhhhhhhh!

how was i the last person to know this about myself? thank god it’s finally dawned on me. but i wonder how I’ll change now that I’ve realized this. i guess I’ll have to wait and see! xo

remember that guy i met on facebook i told you about? (part 2)

one thing led to another and before i knew it- we were rolling around naked, kissing… which yes, totally led to sex. but this was different. this wasn’t like the flings I’d had months before. i was having a sexy time rendezvous/fling with a cuddly guy. his mouth said ‘blah, blurg, sarcastic joke here, clumsy jab there!’ but his body said ‘love me, and i’ll love you’. was this how he was with every girl? what was his MO? who knows? who cares! this was epic! we tickled eachother, held eachother, took breaks to spoon, he told me about his parents, we talked about dreams (listen, i have dream boards/to do lists of my goals ALL OVER MY APARTMENT! sure they’re facing the wall, so no one can read them- but if i didn’t tell him, he would have just turned them around! i was at his mercy!)

i could see the little boy version of himself in his face. he didn’t seem evil at all. even if he was a crass, dick pic’ing dude.

we looked deep into each others eyes, pretended to sleep with our mouths open and pressed together, like silly little kids. if there was ever a way to have a fling- this was the way to do it! it was the best of both worlds: extreme emotional intimacy & tenderness MEETS casual cool & commitment free! two people sharing a moment and then moving on with their lives. holy shit, he really DID look like a young Richard Gere! maybe he was the real life American gigolo- circa NOW! he was giving me the full experience, that’s for DAMN sure!

it was loving sex! NOT the kind of sex where both people try to show off all the moves they’ve learned thus far. it was tender, not acrobatic (except for when he hoisted me onto the kitchen counter for a second). and as we looked into each-others eyes, i wanted to hug him as tight as i could so he’d feel love from another human being. i felt like he needed that or something. or maybe I was just projecting. but I’m pretty intuitive! looking up at him, i could have said ‘i love you’. i don’t and i didn’t, but it was that kind of moment. interspersed with talking about the past and the future and goals and relationships, etc. it didn’t feel cheap.

after, as we lay in bed together, i had the realization: even though i’m having such a nice time, and this has been such a great affair, i (still) do not want to be in a relationship with anyone (right now/at this point in my life) and I’m so happy to be single!

the night before, during our FIRST make-out, i had stopped kissing him and yelled: ‘thank god for facebook! this is exactly what i needed.’ and now,  post coital, i STILL  felt that way! no regrets, no impulse to cry, i didn’t feel more alone than ever. he put his arm around me, and i was fine.

we stayed up till 5am, fell asleep for a sec, woke up at 6am, and i called him a cab so he could get his bags from his hotel and go to the airport. he kissed me goodbye and left.

as the door closed behind him, thoughts like; ‘shit, that was epic! Geeze, like, um, wow, if he was gonna be in town for just a few days longer- i would have loved for us to show each other every sexual thing we’ve ever learned.’  and ‘we should just hole up in a Vegas hotel suite and have sex all weekend!’ went through my dopamine riddled brain.

later that day, i met up with my best male friend. we split a cupcake and traded sexual seduction stories. i was elated and exhausted. i saw my therapist the next day. i was still so happy. she said i was on a dopamine high. i asked her when the crash would be, but she just shrugged. well, thanks for nothing! not to worry, i would soon find out on my own.

as the days went by i realized i was more sensitive than i thought.

my emotional calender read like this:

WEDNESDAY- (day of dude’s departure) i was elated, beaming, and exhausted.

THURSDAY- i was satisfied and happy.

FRIDAY- i was bummed, borderline needy/obsessing. my eyes glued to my blackberry, and shocked that he wasn’t feeling the same way.  (dopamine crash! hollah!) at one point i even asked a whole foods employee in the wine section for help. he asked if i preferred red or white, but instead of a wine quesh, i asked him to decode the cryptic, nothing texts facebook guy had sent me. what? there’s no shame in my game! oh wait, i wrote that wrong; there was a lot of shame in my game that week. i had no game. it was not sexy. the wine dude agreed.

SATURDAY- i was over it. (but still telling anyone who would listen about my fling and post fling FEELINGS. gross – insert punch to my face here. )

SUNDAY- 98% of me was back on track, happy, and busy with other stuff! phew!  1% of me (my ego) was hoping he was thinking about me. and the other 1% was disappointed in myself for caring. i was better than that.

but this was deeper than logic, this was biology. this was what sex does/can do to a woman. shit!

i used to love drama and to feel stuff just for the sake of feeling! but this was too much. i was a mini emotional roller coaster. it was keeping me out of the present moment and unfocused. is this why boxers don’t have sexxx before a fight?

(to be continued)

remember that guy i met on facebook i told you about?

while we sat over coffee– he started telling me about a girl he’d hit on recently, back home in NYC. was he serious? did he not find me attractive? was this turning into a bro out sesh, because i thought it was a date. not one to hold back, i said ‘are you trying to sleep with me? because, if you are, why are you talking about another girl?’ he got flustered and smiled, said it was a while ago, trying to make it into a silly thing, brushing it under the rug. that was a close one! i really wanted to like him. or at least, for him not to blow it.

i was busy as fuck the next afternoon. running around town, appointments all over the place. but they were all just obstacles i had to get past… because i was most excited about seeing him again. I’d made a decision and i was OK with it: i was going to have sex with him! he was only in la for one more night. if i hadn’t wanted to, i would have just canceled that day. this was a specific choice on my end. i felt like i needed a fling, like medicine. and by ‘fling’, i mean ‘sex’. i was into it. it would be no strings attached! i didn’t hate him, and he was gorgeous! perfect! and all the hours we’d spent over the phone before we’d actually met, made it seem less yuck/sleazy. there was some time invested in this thing. he’d worked on me for a while! plus, i’d read his blog for the first time, the night before (after he told me about it/admitted his identity) and i was fascinated! this intrigued me and i had a million questions for him. finally, since meeting him, i felt like i could really relate to him now. more so than just being two strangers who met over facebook with mutual friends.

i bought candles at Larchmont beauty center, i drank tons of pineapple juice for WHATEVER reason, i wore eyeliner and tights. we didn’t have dinner plans. no. i didn’t want to eat in front of him, or gain weight from this experience! no! i wanted a cozy, sexy night. we made plans for him to come over at 8:45. i liked the controlled atmosphere of my house. like i was inviting him into my lair. as if we were kids hiding in a fort, except the fort wasn’t made out of two chairs and a blanket- it was a 1 bedroom with hardwood floors! my house was clean- I’d had it cleaned the Sunday a few days prior (for me, not him). he came over. i was trying to appear casual cool, on my computer, finishing up with some work. i didn’t want to put my responsibilities on the back burner, and i thought it would be super cute to pose on my bed, in front of my computer and say ‘this is what i look like when i facebook.’ so i did.

he told me to take my time, and wandered into my living room. oh no you don’t! i’d heard him say he likes to snoop around peoples houses. what if he stole something? that last part was a joke….  kind of. you never know. for years i had a fear that if i had a boy over at my house, he would pee on my toothbrush while he was in my bathroom. i had absolutely no proof of this whatsoever, but I’d throw away my tooth brush after each fling/visit, just in case. sometimes you just have to follow a hunch/trust your instincts!

i finished my work and hurried after him into the next room, giving him the mini tour of my living room. i wondered if my descriptions of the photos that hung on my wall sounded rote, or if he was even listening. i remembered him promising over the phone- months earlier- that if ever came over, he’d play my ‘sex and the city’ board game with me. i wasn’t gonna miss this chance! i never have anyone to play with!

it was cute, and sweet. we talked, joked while he set up the game. i liked that we didn’t just immediately start making out. we were like two human beings, just hanging out, playing the ‘sex and the city’ board game. neither of us ended up being very good, well that’s not true. i was a champ! maybe he was fibbing about having been a pro. I’ll never know. we played for like 8 minutes. i won. thank god.

he said ‘come here’. i put my hand in his. he pulled me towards him and kissed me.

(to be continued)

under the skirt, over the panties:

Ever since my first kiss, under the hidden stairs of a temple at one of my classmates bar mitzvahs, with a mouth full of braces and a crazy tongue circling technique- i learned something. something that hasn’t changed from then to know:
Boys will ALWAYS see how far they can take can go; how far they can take it, when it comes to sexy times.

it’s as though ALL thoughts/fear/acknowledgement of getting AIDS, herpes, warts, chlamydia, whatevs, goes out the window when their dick is involved. if they kiss you, they wanna suck on your boobs. if they get that, they wanna put their hands in your undies. if they finger you, they want to lick you. if you give them get a blow job, they want to cum in your mouth/on your face/in your eyeball; and for you to swallow like a champ! and if they know you’re gonna sexxx them, they want to fuck you WITHOUT a condom. they NEVER want to wear a condom! ‘it’s too tight’, ‘it’s too big’, ‘i can’t feel anything’, ‘it’s so annoying’, ‘i hate these fucking things’, ‘i’m clean i swear.’ wahhhhh!

it’s like going into battle;

it’s like wheeling and dealing at some flea market in Abu Dhabi (reference made in honor of sex and the city 2: coming soon, to a theatre near you muthah-fuckahz/ladies/my gay brothers!)

it’s like playing Russian roulette with an aids baby instead of a bullet!

it’s like sitting down without a lawyer in court, with a possible life sentence of…. like death.

you just have to make your case, make it good, and stand by it! so you don’t get a life sentence! all the while keeping your voice sexy and the mood light.

Nowadays you have to protect yourself while trying to get close to someone. it fucking sucks! It’s easy to start resenting a guy right away when sex is involved. what you let happen sexually is something you end up panicking over/worrying about- the next day, or even moments after. instead of ‘wow. we just connected in such a literal, beautiful, biblical way! yayzers!’ you think ‘i hope the condom didn’t break. he better not have lied about not having herpes. shit, he probably just doesn’t even know cuz he’s too lazy to get tested. if he was such a pro about getting in MY vadge without a condom, he must have experience talking OTHERS into being fucked sans condom!”

instead of thinking ‘i wonder if he’ll call me.’ you’re waiting for his TEXT three days later while sitting in the waiting room at your gyno’s office praying to god you’re not preggers, positive for syphilis, warts, etc.

All this worry even if he DID wear a condom AND pulled out before he came! you just NEVER know! THAT’S how scary it is nowadays! Sex is a liability, not a luxury! and abortions aren’t another form of birth control! they’re scary too! avoid those at all costs, if you can.

But as scary as fucking, and licking, and sexing, and sucking  is in 2010- love, sex, and hormones are STILL too powerful to say no to! now, then, and FOREVER! So i guess all we can do is just know what we’re getting ourselves into, not feel pressured or bullied, use condoms, birth control pills, spermicide, diaphragms, take preventative valtrex, get tested after every time we sexxx someone/blow someone/get eaten out by someone, and basically try our hardest not to end up soaked in a bucket load of aids infected cum.

good luck.

i love you.