periods and murderers (part 3):

(CONTINUED FROM HERE)

I called my ex fling who’d vouched for the shit-hole hotel to begin with, figuring he owed me.

He said I could stay with him. the only thing was, I didn’t wanna have sex with him at all, but I knew I’d feel obligated. He’s a dude, I’m a girl, and we’d already had sex.

I just shouldn’t have gone to New York. yikes, being a teenager who thinks she can handle everything can be very confusing.

He was house-sitting for a painter in the east village.

when i got there, a bunch of his friends we’re hanging out. two of which were a photographer girl and her bestest girlfriend the fashion designer.

these girls were mean. they were flaunting their intimate friendship making it very clear that there was no chance they’d ever even consider opening up the group to make room for me. they were an exclusive club that was at capacity, and i was the nerd outside standing in line.

geeze, I didn’t even have time to decide if I liked them, before they made it clear they were excluding me.

so I drank to avoid being ill at ease. creating more bloat that I’d hate myself for later.

We sat around, watched a movie, listened to Andrew wk, and talked a bunch of random bullshit.  The only one who wasn’t there was the woman who actually owned the apartment. eventually everyone went home, leaving me and the dude to ourselves.

I dreaded this, cuz I wasn’t feeling sexual. But he was slowly morphing into a self-proclaimed doctor of sexy. Healing girls who didn’t feel good about themselves. and it was clear he was about to take me on as his first patient.

we laid on the living room floor and started kissing. i could handle this. maybe he would just french kiss me for a bit then fall asleep?

He pulled my pants down, I mumbled…”no, um, don’t…I, um, I’m having my female problem”

female problem? If I could have punched myself in the face to snap me out of my passive bullshit, I would have. But I was so deep inside my skin. that i couldn’t see or take ownership of myself. i couldn’t stop apologizing for myself. it was Like everyone else was perfect, and I was just lucky to be among them. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it! how spineless and weak i was. what was i so scared of? why did i care what anyone thought about me?

He didn’t stop pulling my pants down. Huh? That’s weird, I thought, he must not have heard me. I said it louder now, and more matter of fact “but I have my period.”

He looked at me, and I looked back at him. His head between my legs, he just smiled. AND THAT’S WHEN THE GNARLIEST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE HAPPENED TO ME IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!!!!!!

He very coolly and calmly pulled my tampon out of my vadge with his teethe, tossed it aside, preceded to go down on me…..

and I’m pretty sure I came.

periods and murderers (part 2):

(CONTINUED FROM HERE)

I called the boy I’d come to New York for. We’d had one epic make out during a previous visit & I wanted so badly to recapture whatever it is i thought we’d had when I’d last seen him. but when i got to his place- it just wasn’t there anymore. and this whole visit was putting way too much pressure on the both of us.

i wasn’t in a good place emotionally either, not just cuz I’d nearly been murdered only moments earlier, but because I didn’t like my body anymore. I’d gained weight since I’d last seen him. and at that time, I thought that what I looked like was the only thing that defined my self worth. I felt needy and aimless. I didn’t feel loved or safe. And it wasn’t this dudes job to provide me with any of that. He was basically a stranger.
and was it just me, or was I like a foot taller than him. I guess I’d never realized how much my head tilted down when we were talking.
I was low. I was depressed. and then I GOT MY PERIOD.

instead of making up an excuse so i could run downstairs to a bodega or something and buy tampons and baby wipes; then swing by a starbux so i could use their bathroom, and buy us two lattes, so i could return with lattes in hand saying something like ‘god, they took forever to make these lattes’ which is what i would do NOW- I went mute and did nothing. he suggested we smoke pot. i really didn’t want to, so i said, ‘ok’.

as usual, the pot made me paranoid as fuck. suddenly every look and move he made was negative and aimed towards me. we passed out at his house… and I prayed I wouldn’t bleed on his sheets.

I left in the morning, without saying goodbye. and we never spoke again. (TO BE CONTINUED)

periods and murderers:

This Wednesday, after my podcast, i did a reading of a short story i wrote- at an even called ‘Literary Death Match’ hosted by Todd Zuniga, who’s a TOTAL babe btw! he looks like the dude from ‘harold and maude’/my long lost brother… that i want to have sex with, kind of, maybe!

after we read our stories to the super packed crowd/uuber supportive audience; the three other performers and i were critiqued by the judges: mary lynn rajskub (24, mr show), scott shriner (weezer bassist), and james morrison (private practice, 24).

did i win? no. did i have a blast? YES!

here is the story that i read:

‘THOSE WERE THE DAYS’

Once upon a time, a much younger version of me went to New York to see a boy.

i barely had any money, but an ex fling of mine told me about a cheap hotel, exclusively advertised in the back pages of the village voice. $200 dollars a week DID sound too good to be true. especially in new York’s fashionable meat packing district! but i was a hopeful dreamer!

when i got there, the hotel was a shit hole filled with the borderline homeless and trannys. a place where hookers took their john. god, I was an idiot. Or was i just super young? maybe a bit of both.

I rode up in the hotels jalopy of an elevator, while a big black hulking brute of a man stood behind me, his warm breath on my neck as he bore a hole in the back of my head with his relentless stare. I think he was drooling too- not that i think I’m hot shit or anything, I’m sure he would have drooled over any girl he was planning on killing with his bare hands. but that day, it was me! me!

We arrived at my floor. I ran to my room, and he quickly followed behind me. as i ran, i hoped he didn’t think i was racist, cuz I’m not- but the blood on his face and his lazy eye made me nervous, not to mention the fact that he was following me after having pressed the button for another floor.

i got to my room, and the peephole was filled with toilet paper. Someone had removed the glass and filled it with toilet paper. The room was as small as an American apparel dressing room. But not nearly as modern and bright.

I could hear a mans heavy breathing and laughter outside. so I pushed my bag AND a chair against the door.

suddenly there was a knock, Which progressed into a threatening banging! “Let me in miss. You better let me in!” It was the guy from the elevator!

The banging continued. I was too scared to cry. This wasn’t a time to cry. I had to be calm. I crawled under the bed, yelling “get away from here! I’m calling the police!” This would have been difficult, considering there was no phone in the room AND I didn’t have a cell.

I was going to get raped to death.

I grabbed my bag, pried open the window and climbed 8 flights down the fire escape like a bullet,letting the front desk keep my $200. (TO BE CONTINUED)

lisa loeb and me:

i knew I was boycrazy, even years ago, while I was watching the Lisa loeb show. yeah, there was a Lisa loeb reality show and I fucking loved it! one episode, Lisa and her mom went to a french chocolate shop/cafe place, and their waiter was so cute, Lisa wondered if he was too young for her to ask on a date- or some shit like that. who knows exactly WHAT happened, i was too busy freaking out about the fact that i was watching the SEXIEST dude in the world plop down some chocolate cake in front of Lisa loeb on some reality show that we both would have been embarrassed to mention if we were on a date. holy shit this guy was gorge! is it NOT cool to masturbate to excess reality programming? too late/i hope not!

anyways, the waiter was a super hot babe- just to be clear! Dark hair, dreamy, and NOT french! perfect! he looked like a broke, dirtier, even more angsty, but with a bigger d*ck version of Robert Pattinson! and that’s saying a lot for me! cuz i already imagine Robert Pattinson has a HUGE private! if anyone knows him, send him my way. that could be an epic night! hotel, glass of wine, and a tawdry/torrid/sexy make-out etc.

anyways, back to my story: Now, keep in mind, the Lisa loeb reality show took place in NYC and I live in la. um, I’m not saying I went to ny JUST for the chocolate shop dude-but when I did end up in NY, I sure as hell made it a point to find that shop! endless googling of the words ‘Lisa loeb, chocolate, cafe’ ensued!

well, I found it! like a mother fucking champ!  the show did not make it easy, that’s for DAMN sure. no ‘thank you’s’ to ‘insert french cafe name here’ in the credits? what was that all about?! thanks for nothing assholes! even though the song ‘stay’ will forever be a solid and reliable karaoke jam for me and a million others.

when I cozied up at a table in the cafe, all by myself, (while my boyfriend at the time was at sound check) ordered a hot chocolate and waited, it all seemed worth the effort. i didn’t see him. hmm, no worries. I’m sure he was just making a tea, or organizing a plate of scones in the back or whatevs. i asked the ugly, boring waiters- who WERE there- if they knew who i was looking for. i sputtered out some retarded description; hoping that if he wasn’t there, it was ONLY because he was in Los Angeles looking for me! i held my breath for their answer.

and you know what? the dude wasn’t fucking there anymore! nope, he’d quit a few weeks prior! GOD DAMMIT! maybe i wasn’t the first visitor who’d come looking for him? well, i’d like to think i was the cutest! at least one thing was on my side… they told me he was straight! so at least if i did find him, he couldn’t use his sexuality as an excuse not to kiss me.

well, I tried. Had I REALLY wanted to find him, I could have asked the waiters and manager that WERE there for his phone number. But, I wasn’t CRAZY! and i wasn’t looking to cheat. I guess I just wanted a mission and to see if he was as cute in person as he was on my TV screen.

we met on facebook (the final chapter):

Richard-Gere---American-Gigolo-Photograph-C10104686

we had sex, duh.

he went back to new york.

and life goes on!

xo

(i’ll save the details for a later date….)

we met on facebook (part 3):

gere-pretty-woman

(continued from the last post) he looked like Richard Gere circa American Gigolo! he was taller than me. he looked smart, clean! his outfit was simple: a jacket over a light grey sweater and jeans. i said hello and hugged him. he was cute! but before we could even start talking, some girl i hadn’t seen in forever came out of nowhere! ‘heeeey alexi..’ and would not shut the fuck up! i told her he (fb dude) had just flown in from NY and that i hadn’t seen him in forever (that was ALMOST the truth- minus the ‘for’ in forever. i couldn’t exactly say i was on a first date with a guy I’d never met before who had trolled me on the interweb and sent me a picture of his privates. actually, that seems like something i WOULD say. but hindsight is 20/20, and i can’t go back in time now!), i mentioned to the annoying monster vadge blocker- that i was starving, being rude to my date, had to go, should cut the conversation short, even feigning that i might possibly faint from hunger/low blood sugar, that my stomach was now eating itself, and that i was on the verge of suicide. but she just kept talking about herself. was she for real? what a monster! she’s worse than me! at least i know when to fucking make my exit. but tall, handsome ‘fb dude’ seemed so calm; just standing there, listening to this annoying jerk go on and on! i was borderline annoyed by his patience. didn’t everyone know i was in make-out mode! i wanted to get it started! i wanted to look at him and give him a proper ‘hello’ hug! one that wouldn’t be interrupted! she was ruining EVERYTHING! finally, she shut the fuck up, and we said our goodbyes. phew!

the truth was, i wasn’t even hungry, i had eaten a lean cuisine before i got there. i didn’t want to take the chance of being low blood sugar and not at my best to charm him. plus, i wasn’t ready to be eating in front of the dude. this was a COFFEE date! i ordered a soy latte (they were out of rice milk. sad face.) he paid. already, this was going sooo great! he laughed and had money ready before i could even reach for my wallet. he said ‘i got it, i got it! of course. i know what you like.’ or something along those lines. this was lovely! i was beaming! yeah, I’m that easy! all it takes is paying for my coffee. that’s not exactly true, he was also taller than me and a babe REMEMBER! woo hoo! i hoped he didn’t think i was ugly. i told him he was handsome and all he said was thank you. wtf? instead of internalizing that, and keeping my self conscious thoughts to myself like a semi sane person, i said ‘listen, I’m not fishing for compliments but i just said you were handsome, like, twice! and all you said was thank you. does that mean you think I’m a horrible monster?’ he just remained calm, collected, and said something like: I’m not gonna compliment you just because you tell me to. i’ll compliment you when i compliment you. to me this was harsh, but it also made sense, and i just needed to chill the fuck out and remember who i was. i am not a monster. i am not a monster. he obviously thinks I’m cute, he’s here. and i don’t need to put all my self worth into this guys hands. i was really nervous. i was spazzing out. i hoped the encounter was still cute, funny, and charming- not him witnessing me having a crazy meltdown!

he ate a cookie. i sat there watching him; bits of cookie flying everywhere as he spoke- like the cookie monster. i mentioned it. i needed anything to use for conversation. plus, i felt the need to give him shit. as if he responded well to being fucked with/made fun of. god, i really needed to have sex. we had both put in our time, via facebook and telephone. we were each-others sexual investment. and these two days would be a mutual withdrawal. that was possibly the dumbest sentence i have ever written in my entire life. i just want you to know that i know that! i was so glad he was a babe, with nice hands, and skin. it may have been glowing even! i asked to inspect his right hand. i don’t know if it was because my mom recently told me about how she’s attracted to a man with nice hands- and i was subconsciously affected- but holding his hand in mine, i thought it was beautiful. big, soft, and delicate- but not manicured, which is great.. cuz he’s a dude! geeze, when did this blog turn into some supermarket romance novel? today mutha-fuckahs!

i liked his skin, how it felt. our conversation didn’t really make any sense. i didn’t know what i wanted to say, ask him, or if we even had anything in common other than fb. i was like an item on his ‘to do’ list or something: have sex with the la based boycrazy blogger. we exchanged discombobulated banter. we were all over the place. i always feel like the pressure’s on me though. like if something’s going badly, I’m the one being judged. but i mainly think this when the guy is really cute. i think i was in shock. you know that weird feeling when someone is actually real and in front of you?! he wasn’t a voice over a phone line, or words on a computer screen anymore. the dude was real and sitting right in front of me! i couldn’t process this fast enough.  i was sarcastic and trying to seem calm- while simultaniously telling him i was freaking out and how weird this all was for me. i have no filter. i wear my feelings/heart/thoughts on my sleeve and in my facial expressions. i say everything I’m thinking, even when i shouldn’t.  i gave him shit about the dick pic thing. asking if he was embarrassed. he pretended to be regretful, but i knew he was faking. i knew he didn’t give a fuck about having sent it. i hoped my hand didn’t shake while i took a sip of my latte. this was all so random! this whole experience. i should have taken a beta blocker or something to calm my nerves, but that would have bit a bit extremo!

he went to the mens room to powder his nose, and while he was gone- i checked my phone/texted my best girlfriend about my date and that i was crazy nervous (fyi- i only checked my phone when he couldn’t see me. texting in front of a date is totally rude! the lowest of the low. a deal breaker.) i noticed i had received a text as well. it was from another sexy dude from NYC who was visiting la, and in town that night only. Jesus, when it rains it pours. well, i might be boycrazy, but i don’t double book. i’m a lady! plus, the dude i was on a date with was way too cute to cut the date short/try to squeeze in ANOTHER date. no thank you. i’ve done that once in my life, years ago, and it’s way too hectic. i also think it de-values the experience of each individual date. we all need time to reflect and decompress after a date/romantical adventure. i turned my phone off and put it away. fb dude came back.

it was freezing out, but i knew we had to get out of there. we were too still. sitting there. stagnant. in front of eachother. we needed to get this show on the road. i wanted to walk with him, so we got up and walked around the block. my make out ploy! it was freezing out! i was in a sweater AND jacket, and i was still cold. i linked arms with him and looked down at my feet and back up at him as we walked. i loved that he was taller than me. we walked around to the back parking lot and stood by my car. yikes, we were gonna kiss… but it didn’t even seem romantic yet. he seemed so whatevs about me. was he even nervous? i wonder how i seemed. on the surface we were acting like kids, picking on eachother- but the subtext was: ‘we’re gonna sexxxy time! we’ve been waiting a while for this! today is the day! wheee! ahhh! omg- squared (x) infinity!’

i looked up at him and touched his hair. i was close to him now and ready/wanted to kiss him. i think i even asked if i could. did i? he kissed me. we leaned against my car, then moved the make-out into my car. great! all i needed was for all the busboys and cashiers at m cafe to watch me have a torrid make-out in my car. i didn’t really care about the pinkberry staff that shared the parking lot as well. they played absolutely no part in my life. making out, i finally felt calm. what does that say about me? (slut whore? shut your mouth! i just like to kiss. it’s quiet and calming!) we kept up the ‘slightly uncomfortable/clunky, make-out in a car’ vibe for as long as we could before one of us said: ‘what are we gonna do?’ so, we drove to his hotel and i valeted my car.

the drive to the hotel/break between the makeout portion of the date threw me off, i was on the verge of getting nervous again. we went upstairs. he made jokes about his room not being on a high enough floor for me. we were such bullshit banter buddies. we must have so much to prove. he kissed me again. now we were laying in his hotel bed. it was amazers, fun, exciting, a bit awkward. what was he thinking during his moments of silence? something? anything? he held me. i tried to match his silence- but then i burst out and yelled: ‘do you know how hard it is for me NOT to speak!’

fooling around, it got to that point where you either have to stop or have sex. i told him ‘i’m not going to have sex with you tonight.’ he asked why. ‘because, i want to see you tomorrow’ i said.  he told me: ‘i’d still see you tomorrow if we had sex tonight.’ i smiled, and didn’t say what i was thinking, which was: ‘yes, but, i wouldn’t want to see YOU if we had sex tonight.’ we continued to make out, cuddle, and spoon. he reached for his phone. i couldn’t believe it! i told him that if he actually texted someone during our make-out rendezvous, i would freak the fuck out. so rude! he looked at me, both of us topless, and said ‘i have to tell you something. don’t be mad! i promise, it’s not about an std or another girl, or anything like that.’ i was panicked. he was scaring me! he was looking for something on his phone! wtf? he handed me his phone and i sat up to look at whatever it was that he was tyring to show me. e-mails on his blackberry? huh? it was an email from me? so what? I’d emailed him before. wait, when was this email sent? not that long ago. but i hadn’t emailed ‘fb dude’ recently. and it was addressed to….holy shit… it was my email exchange with ‘the faceless blogger’! ‘fb dude’ WAS the faceless blogger! they were the same person! I’d been had!

he looked at me with concern. he seemed worried. omg, i couldn’t believe this! i had no idea! now, I’m sure you guys all saw this coming from a mile away, in my set up of this story- but i didn’t, cuz i was living it. this was like ‘you’ve got mail’ or something! and i was meg ryan and he was tom hanks! i wasn’t mad at all. did i feel tricked? no! i thought it was cool and romantic and crazy! i didn’t care. this only made the story better. epic even! for the first time during this entire date sesh…. i was happy, and i liked him. this was officially exciting. this was noteworthy. it added to the story of my life!

i had to leave. i said i had to wake up early… even though i didn’t. my face was a post make-out red/worn off makeup disaster! ‘don’t look at me!’ was the mantra that echoed in my head. i hate how other people can be used as mirrors. all my ‘crazy’ comes up when another person is in front of me to reflect how i feel about myself. forcing me to look at myself/hear all the annoying voices in my head: self consciousness and a fear of being judged. but this always happens when i think a boy is cute and we’ve just met. it’s worse when I’m totally calm and feel nothing. that means the dude will never see my boobs. (well, he’ll probably never see my boobs.) I’m sure there’s a happy medium out there, for someone! even if i never attain it! anywayzies. i told him to pay for my valet, because it’s the right thing to do, and he did. we kissed while waiting for my car to be brought around. he made sure to tell me that he was giving me a pda (public display of affection)! wow, thanks a lot dude, i should be sooo grateful! he wanted me to take him to his company’s party that he had blown off to be with me (i think he made the right choice)! i dropped him off, hoping he would keep our night sacred and not troll for other girls/makeout/etc. at least i wasn’t waiving my other nyc potential date in front of HIM! but, i don’t own the dude, and i’d have gone back to meet up with my friends too? yeah, i would, since it was a work party AND i was in from outta town. we’d had a fun night. this didn’t have to negate that. he told me he wanted to see me the next day, go to dinner. i said ok. we kissed goodbye, and he got out of my car.

i sped home! what just happened? i texted the other nyc dude and said: sorry, i was with a friend. maybe another time. (i didn’t appreciate the short notice anywayzies). when i got home. i could not sleep! i went to fb dude/the faceless blogger’s website and read every single entry. i read about his awkward dates, coming onto girls, coming of age stories, the dichotomy of what guys/he wants in a girl/love, mens perception of the differences between 19 year old girls and 31 year old girls. and instead of being jealous, angry, or thinking he was a misogynist asshole, who was confused and immature- i appreciated his honesty! plus, i liked his writing. i liked that he was honest about being girl-crazy, needing to experience single-ness to the max-/get it out of his system, had feelings, was sentimental, was emotional, needed to be loved by everyone (while at the same time, not loving in return or wanting to commit at all), and admitted it! he was obviously self aware and searching! searching for what matters, what’s real, and what he wants as far as love, sex, fucking, and relationships are concerned. and that’s ok. and yes, the dude reminded me of ME!

he clearly liked girls with dark hair and pale skin, check. i saw something in him. i saw myself in him. he was shallow, emotional, looking to be loved, harsh, insecure, and also very masculine/macho, needed tons of validation, out to bang chicks, but live in a romantic comedy and get married one day. i hoped he wasn’t too mean. i saw his blatant ageism and harsh judgemental side. but, i knew that all his observatons/weighing the pros and cons and dissecting women- would all go out the window the minute he fell in love (i’m not saying with me, but with whoever). cuz being hit over the head with love outweighs all the ‘logic/listmaking/picture perfect alone’ criteria. it’s an invisible bubble that hovers over the two people in love. it can’t be explained. youth, beauty, and lots of options are awesome! but that combined with finding someone you can talk to, who inspires you, that you love, who loves YOU, and makes you laugh- is the dream. someone that you feel cozy with.

but everyone can feel all these different things all at once. maybe not all the time, but some times. they just don’t talk about it. i have a million different opinions in one day. i stare at young sexy boys i wanna make-out with, and the minute they open their mouth, i wanna run. sometimes i make-out with them first and then run. i think about how i don’t want to be tied down and how much i love being single, but the minute it gets cold out, i want a boy who ‘gets’ me/knows me/loves me- to cuddle with. (i should invent a delivery service- but i think that would make me a madam.) the point is: everyone can be a complete contradiction. we’re all just figuring it out. hopefully not hurting anyone’s feelings along the way.

reading his site made me think about how people might percieve me. just because i have this ‘boycrazy’ blog doesn’t mean i’m some skanky skag, who fucks every dude she meets (just SOME of them- the cutest and/or the coolest, i swear!). i’m not incapable of love. not at all! i’m actually very sensitive and in some ways might be more of a hopeless romantic than MOST because i’ve made it my job to put a microscope on people/boys & girls; asking them about love, dating, sex, relationships, social dynamics, turn ons, turn offs, hopes, dreams, ideals, etc. writing about it all and analyzing all my thoughts and feeling while I search for what/who makes me happy!

i saw myself in ‘fb dude/the faceless bloggger’. i could relate to him! now my mind was reeling! thank god! this was way more of a turn on than good looks alone. suddenly i had a million things i wanted to ask/say to him- nothing like when i was sitting in front of him only hours earlier at the cafe! i couldn’t wait to see him! i hoped i would remember everything in my brain! i wasn’t sure if i should tell him i read EVERY entry of HIS blog, but i’d wait and see how i felt. i took a bath, got into bed, and went to sleep….. happily awaiting our second date! (to be continued)

we met on facebook (part 2):

57QK9SvrIpl05cmyeHapDM2uo1_500.jpg

(continued) the days passed. we spoke and texted less and less. one night while he was writing on my wall- my facebook wall, not my vaginal walls- his friend joined in on the wall postings. the comments were too harsh for me. they weren’t funny and i was feeling sensitive. i was pms’ing and over it. did i have a crush on someone in la? maybe. ‘fb dude’ called me and i told him i was annoyed. that i didn’t wanna talk. i wasn’t in the mood. who was this guy? ugh, i didn’t even know him. and now he and his friend were teaming up on me on facebook? i didn’t feel safe. he was suddenly an enemy, not an ally. looking back, i was feeling particularly sensitive that night. but that was that, i kinda forgot about the whole thing, and never called him back.

months after our last phone call, ‘fb dude’ texted me saying he’d be in la in a couple weeks for 2 days. he asked me to pick a day to go out on a coffee date. i picked the first of the two days.. just in case he was gorgeous. i continued on with my life. i remembered him telling me that he LOVED hair on a girls privates during one of our late night calls, so i got waxed, knowing i would be grown out by the time he came to town. he wasn’t priority number one, but he was in the back of my mind: ‘oh, yay! if nothing’s going on, at least i have a date early next month.’

i was dating and focused on work. i went to a laker game, dinner parties, was spending time with my girlfriends. one of them told me about some faceless male blogger- who’s blog reminded her of mine. i checked it out. but there were so many pics of some hipster ‘it girl’ dj, i decided against reading it. i was probably just annoyed that the obsessive photos weren’t of me. i can be such a narcissist fuck. so, i emailed him:

me: who are you? the male me? i wanna see a pic. i won’t tell a soul. xo, alexi

him: Just so you know I’m not that easy. One e-mail from a pretty girl is not enough to have me uploading pics.

me: ok. people keep telling me about your blog because they say it reminds them of mine. however, it’s not really that similar. especially since i don’t hide my identity. didn’t we already write on fb? or am i totally wrong? maybe you’re not even a boy. holy shit, the interweb is crazers. i’ll leave you alone now. best, alexi

him: It’s actually been really hard being anonymous because so many channels of promotion were not open to me. I will be honest, your blog was one of the reasons I started, dudes really don’t have anything like it, most of the men that blog about women are so fucking douchey, I just wanted to tell stories about new york and have fun with it.

me: well, thank you. i’m glad i inspired you. : )

me (3 days later): one more thing…. are you a goodlooking, tall (6 feet or over), single boy babe? (he didn’t respond.)

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

two weeks later, ‘fb dude’ arrived in la!

in the days that led up to his arrival- i had been inundated with work and was WAY more excited about watching bad tv/being cozy at home/spending more time with my family, friends, and myself– whenever i had any down time, than i was about meeting lackluster dudes and prowling. it wasn’t worth the energy.

(even though, let’s face it, my eyes are ALWAYS OPEN when it comes to cute boys; at the supermarket, cafes, while driving- to the point of borderline driving into walls or off a cliff, even maybe!)

I’d only had sex once in the last four months. and now, i needed it like medicine! in the daytime, i was fine. but when it got dark and cold out (and, lately,  it was getting darker earlier and more cold than usual) i felt in need of a cuddle/makeout/sexxxy time rendezvous. but i had no crush on anyone! no one on my radar. and i didn’t want it to be an empty experience. i wanted it to be fun and cozy. with someone who actually values me, and likes me as a person.

my best male friend would tell me to just ‘rub one out’ and go to sleep. he’s a charmer. he actually IS a charmer, but i prefer the term ‘touch myself’. anyways, not being sexxed in four months was leaving me feeling not cute/de-swagger-fied.

but, the day my ‘fb dude’ got to la, i had just started to feel better! that particular day was hectic and i was happy! i had castings, hit on some 19 and 23 year old boys, my best girlfriend and i went shopping/bro’d out like champions, and I’d even had a business meeting over hot chocolates and coffee at the chateau marmont! this way to fancy town! what more did i need?

now i was dreading the date. i was confused. how did this dude fit into my life? he didn’t! i didn’t want to be nervous and anxious about being judged by a dude who’s only ever seen pictures of me on the interweb; who i might not even like; sit with him judging whether my photos were a misrepresentation of me; i didn’t want to be a let down. fuck. i didn’t need more stress in my life! i’m just a person! a person! this was supposed to be fun! i had just gotten over a cold, i was sleepy faced. yikes. i hoped he didn’t think i was an ugly/fat/wrinkled/monster/with bad skin . i hated that i cared, because ultimately it didn’t matter what this guy thought of me. i think i’m great! (are you noticing i have a tendency to over-think, cuz i do. i know! you’re welcome. ahh!)

i was meeting ‘fb dude’ at 8:45 at m cafe and i was running a few minutes late. i showed up at 8:50. i entered from the back, walked into the ladies room to look at myself in the mirror, DUH! it’s THE THING to do, and fluffed my hair! i walked out of the ladies, down the corridor, and there he was… and he was fucking GORGEOUS. (to be continued)


we met on facebook (part 1):

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I’ll call him ‘fb dude’. he had requested my friendship on facebook months before. he lived in new york. his default pic was nice. somehow, probably by asking, i found out he was 6’2. he was trolling me and i love attention. we had mutual friends, (did i mention he was tall and good-looking?), so it was fine! friendship accepted! hollah! i asked one of our mutual friends if ‘fb dude’ was a jerky murderer or something, and he said no. alright! i could be excited! we would write on fb, text, and even have long phone call conversations. this was new for me. i’d never let a random facebook request escalate to phone calls! sometimes he texted me during the day and checked up on me. it’s always nice to get a text. even if it DID just stem from boredom and the new texting obsession that’s been going around/sweeping the nation. give a text, get a text!

one night he had to talk me down off a ledge (figuratively) about a guy i had a crush on. what was ‘fb dude’? a friend? a romance? what he was was a lonliness eliminator or at least an alleviator. i guess i was the same for him. he was probably JUST putting in the time, effort, work to sexxx me if we ever ended up in the same town at the same time. but the conversations went on a bit too long. putting in time could have been done in smaller intervals. maybe he should rework his game? did he just like my blog? was he a facebook predator pro?  he seemed very alive on the web. i should talk. I’m basically fb spam- trying to get people to read my b l o g. what was his excuse? i guess this is how it is now. modern men in modern times troll the web. one thing that concerned me was how late he stayed up every night. it seemed like he went to bed at 7am every night/day. but he filled that attention void i needed.

he was a self proclaimed ex-‘wigger‘. i don’t like even WRITING that word, because it’s linked to the ‘n’ word- but that’s what he referred to himself as. this ‘wigger’esque dialect came out here and there over the phone. i thought it was sexy and random. very different for me. what was i doing on the phone with this dude? but it was kinda nice having some faceless set of ears to talk to. talk about whatevs. practice being witty. practice fast paced, flirty banter.

it was getting late one night during one of these phone calls, when he offered to send me a ‘dick pic’. wtf?! i had never even heard of this phrase! was this some new thing? did all the kids know about dick pic’ing except me? i said “no! gross! do not send me a pic of your dick. that will kill everything! whatever this ‘thing’ is- will be extinguished. ugh.” it took about 20 minutes for me to say “okay, send it.” and he did! holy shit! i can’t believe this dude sent me a pic of his dick! he asked me to send him some sort of pic back! yeah right! what a pro this dude was! but i’m not fucking retarded! no way!

the next day, i felt it was my duty to tell as many girlfriends of mine who would listen about my new-found dick pic knowledge. i showed them the pic which was now stored in my phone (calm down, it was just his privates, no pic of his face attached and i didn’t say his name! I’m not evil. i would never do that!) i even passed my phone around at a dinner party to everyone’s shock, horror, jubilee, and dismal fascination. what can i say? dicks look weird. but so do vagina’s. this isn’t a competition. so let’s just call a spade a spade. back to the dick pic: it was too ‘this’ for some, too ‘that’ for others. my dude friends just shrugged when i showed them. i’m pretty sure i showed everyone i ran into, including people i didn’t know but wanted to meet – JUST so i could show them. it was fun! i’m GLAD ‘fb dude’ sent it to me. i told him i showed it to people at a dinner party and he wasn’t even mad. he was actually a smart dude who had some good insight into things, gave good advice about relationships, and happened to send the occasional picture of his dick. yikes. (to be continued)

years ago….. (part 3):

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(continued from the LAST post)

Turns out, now that it’s 2009 (and apparently for the past 3 years or so- thanks a lot for not telling me, old doc!) there’s a better technique to see if there’s a recurrence of cancer. A technique that doesn’t require you to go on a very restrictive 2 week diet ahead of time. It’s an ultrasound. Well, about 2 weeks ago, I saw this new doc, got an order for an ultrasound, and even though I’d just been given another clean bill of health from a body scan I did about a month ago under the LAST endocrinologists care- I decided to cover my ass and double check; so I got the ultrasound.

The doctor called a few days later. He told me my thyroid levels were good (since I no longer have a thyroid, I take a thyroid replacement EVERYDAY- btw: finding the right level for your body is a process. You and your doc figure out what levels are working through trial and error. Sometimes you’re out of breath walking up the stairs- dose is too low. Sometimes you’re feeling frantic and can’t stop sweating- dose is too high. And finally, you work out the dosage so you’re just right! Like Goldilocks!), he told me my blood-work, iron levels, etc all looked good. BUT they found abnormal lymph nodes.

Wtf! Are you fucking kidding me! This again?! After about 5 years (more if I include the years of drainings and biopsies before they ever even found abnormal cells) of body scans, diets, and blood-work! I’ve always just referred to it as a hassle. I’ve made the cancer stuff I’ve dealt with ‘a hassle’. But now, I’m panicked. I don’t want this hassle in my life anymore!!! I don’t need to slow down and look at my life. I know what I want! I know what I’m grateful for. And I don’t want this!

Today I’m getting the abnormal lymph nodes biopsied. It’s a fine needle biopsy. They stick a long thin needle in my neck and draw fluid, cells. After that I wait. I wait for the lab to look at what they took. I wait for the doctor to call me and tell me if I have cancer again. And if I do, I have to go under the knife again. And if it’s nothing I will be relieved. So please, think good thoughts for me and light a candle or 10. I love you. i love you. i love you. Xo

years ago….. (part 2):

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(continued from the LAST post)

so, the first surgery had determined- I had papillary thyroid cancer. The second surgery was easier. It was as though my body was a seasoned pro. I was still in a ton of pain when I came to, but I was eating more quickly than I had after the first operation. And according to everyone around me: nurses, my mom, my bf, and my friend skip- I wasn’t as pale. No dad visit again. OK. He would have made it harder. He would have annoyed me, rattled me, made me anxious due to him being so rude and antagonistic. He probably would have cringed seeing me because he doesn’t know how to handle situations that call for tenderness, calm, or unconditional love.

At least I had my boyfriend. Or at least that’s how I felt before he visited me at the hospital one day, while I was recovering,  got into bed with me reeking of booze and told me he drank a bottle of cooking wine and might need to go to aa. I’m so glad he didn’t make it all about him. Phew! him in bed with me, crammed into a bed smaller than a twin size, tugged at the iv in my arm. This was not comfortable. Sometimes you get sick because it’s your body’s way of making you slow down and get quiet- so you can look at life, look at YOUR life, and realize what’s important, what isn’t, what you want and what you do not want, realize what you’re grateful and thankful for.

Now I had no thyroid and they had removed some lymph nodes/scraping the inside of my neck. I did radiation and my head swelled up like I was a 400 pound woman, and yet my body remained the same. embarrassing! riiight! I can’t remember the order of all the procedures. Maybe they found residual stuff in my lymph nodes after the second surgery and then did the radiation? Then a second radiation because it wasn’t taking? either or.

It seemed like everything was finally OK. although, the radiation fucked with my salivary glands a bit- more specifically, my parotid glands. So for a while, and even to this day- if I eat something too crazy sour or salty, I might feel like the area between my earlobes and jawline is swelling. is it a real swelling or a phantom swelling? It’s always different. Drinking water makes it calm down and go back to normal. Nobody notices but me, it’s so subtle. but I notice.

in the four years that followed, each and EVERY year- I had to go on what’s called a ‘low iodine diet’ to prepare for a full body scan to make sure the cancer hadn’t come back. And for the past four years, each scan has been clear of any residual cancer. Yay! But my doctor started to worry me. She’s on a few too many reality shows! I felt her office was a bit jumbled and I didn’t like the front office’s attitude or organization. So I decided to mix it up. i asked around, to potentially see a new endocrinologist. well, he doesn’t look like house, but i found one! (to be continued)



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