One girl. One college. Three thousand guys. This blog is a blow-by-blow [yes, that was a dirty pun] account of the social (and usually sexual) misadventures of a commitment-phobic and ironically promiscuous virgin.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

A helping hand.

I have a question that is more burning than Paris Hilton's syphilis:

How do guys feel about Hand Jobs?

I mean, I know that some girls think that any way you touch a penis it feels good, but I think every guy in the world will acknowledge that isn't the case. I mean there are a lot of factors that play into a hand job, and each guy likes it differently, so there is no "right" way to do it. It's a little awkward to do in the first place, and positioning can make it damn near impossible.

So how do you make sure you go about it right? And how do you make it less awkward than it already is? I mean, I know a lot of guys would say that fingering a girl is more complicated (and I don't doubt that, unless you've gotten enough practice it can be hard to know exactly what to do), but honestly I think that Hand Jobs are just as difficult and are actually physically more awkward to perform.

Not to mention, there is always lingering thought: "does he wish he just did it himself?" Especially if it kind of drags on, and even if he looks (and sounds) like he's enjoying it, after a few minutes, my wrist hurts, and I'm wondering if it's ever going to end. Some guys are pretty foward about saying how they like it, or even guiding your hand for a second just to get the right rhythm going, but I think others just sit and suffer through some pretty miserable hand jobs.

The biggest issue is that it's easy to make a hand job a literally painful experience. Penises do not come with a self-lubrication system, and everyone knows that chaffing anywhere is painful. As awkward as it might be, I think guys would be better off if they just suggested add some lotion into the equation.

I'm also always afraid of gripping too hard. I play it safe and start off really softly and wait for some sort of sign to add any pressure. I know that I would much rather a guy start slowly and softly when he's working on me, so that I can build up to the point where it feels the best, but if he starts out too rough than it's harder to get him to ease up without freaking out that he's hurting me, which kind of kills the mood. I've talked to a few guys who said that the worse thing in the world is a girl with a kung-fu grip, but they also added that they don't usually say anything because they don't want to offend the girl. I mean, that's a nice thought, but you're not doing a girl any favors by letting her go back out into the world cutting off the circulation in the crotch of the next guy she hooks up with.

All of that just makes me wonder whether or not guys appreciate hand jobs at all. Would they rather just skip them all together and then finish themselves off later? Is it always better if a guy does it himself? I know a lot of guys aren't expecting to get laid that first night, but is a hand job a satisfying alternative? Does anyone still give Hand Jobs anymore?



Chuck told me over the phone tonight that he was terrified of my mind. He did not mean this in a negative way, quite conversely, he said that he overwhelmed and impressed by my thoughts.

Crazy stuff. He really knows how to stroke an ego. It is too bad I might not get to experience him stroking anything else.


Wednesday, November 29, 2006

If I only had the nerve.

I really want to go with Nik to our fast-approaching winter house formal.

I don't want to ask him. I don't want to go by myself and hope he is there.

I just want him to ask me. Is that really so much to ask? I don't care if it's 2006, and women should have no problems taking the initiative, no one male or female wants to be the one who risks being rejected.

I think he is going to take the Ex, since it would be convenient. They have a ton of mutual friends, it wouldn't be awkward, and it would take the pressure off needing to find a date. She doesn't live in our dorm, but my guess would be that he would also attend her dorm's winter formal with her. I have no idea if they're actually planning on doing this, but it makes sense. They all went to the freshman formal together last year, so why not again this year?

It's exactly two weeks from tomorrow, and I'd like to know whether or not he has a date fairly soon. If I knew for certain that he had no intention of going with her than I would probably come up with a complicated-kind-of-kooky-I-love-Lucy-esque pla that would probably invovle a lot of text messaging and third parties, so that I could inadvertanly ask him to ask me. Yes, I know, I have the emotional maturity of a sixth grader. And yes, I also know that it would probably be easier just to ask him, but obviously I am not going to do that.

Regardless of the date situation, I really want to go to the formal anyway, since I love getting dressed up, but I am not going to buy a ticket for one, and I don't think any of my female friends in my dorm are planning on going (unless of course someone asks them). Le sigh.

Great Expectations.

French, Feel, Finger, Fuck. The Four Fs of hooking up, usually taught to gossiping junior high students to as "the bases," never change (though some aruge that "French, Finger, Suck, Fuck" might be the bases of the future. What does change is expectations.

Sorry for the hertronormative slant, but what do guys expect in a "hook up" when you get to college? In high school making out, maybe hitting second base, was all a guy could really expect. Nowadays, it seems like guys go into hooking up with this "I hope I get off" mentality, which doesn't mean that they're assuming they're going to get laid, but a lot seem to feel like just seeing some nipples is enough to justify a girl being topless in his bed.

To be fair, I go into hookups with an "I hope I get off" attitude (okay, fine, with me it's more like an "I had better get off, or else this was totally not worth it" attitude), and I have a strict "give and receive" policy: If he does not give an orgasm, he will not be receiving one. I don't think I am particularly fussy or hard to please - I generally know what I like and I don't mind pointing someone in the right direction - but with some guys it seems to be a fruitless effort.

That being said, the give and receive policy also usually determines the boundaries of a hookup for me. If he goes down, then I don't mind doing the same, unless of course I am tired and just want to go to sleep - if that's the case I'll just say something alluding to the fact that I'm done and really don't care whether or not he is and then go to sleep (fine, I'm a jerk).

I guess I am just curious to know how other people feel out hookups. I know everyone has their own comfort levels, and experience, but really how does either person in a hookup know what the other wants if it's not explicitly stated? What are most people hoping to do, expecting to do, and willing to do? I pose these questions in an "ideal" situtaion, I mean no pressure, what is the natural prorgression of a one-time (or maybe just first time) hookup? Are college students usually just hitting doubles, and how rare are homeruns?

It seems like not that many people (here at least) have (or have had) "casual" sex. With a few exceptions, most people have only had sex with a few people, but I have run into some guys (Mad, for example) who assume that if she's naked in your bed, she's all for it. One thing that I'm happy about is that, even the few guys I've encountered who are expecting to fuck first, talk later, none of them have been disappointed, or put any pressure on me to do anything I didn't want to. I've found that I set the boundaries in bed, which is good - but maybe that's why I'm not worry to get naked and hop in.

Textual Tension.

If you missed it in the title of the post, there has clearly been some new developments in my strictly textual relationship with Chuck. Also in case you missed it, I think I am so clever punning textual off of sexual. Get it, "textual" and "sexual" rhyme. Not to mention, they are both (strangely enough) accurate descriptions of my relationship with Chuck when he was here and since his departure.

"Did i ever tell
u i don't like
u cause i like
u too much and
u scare me"

followed by,

"Oh little moth
if u only knew u were the
flame and i the
miserable the cycle goes."

I tell him too much. I must stop it. He's too interesting. And also too far away. I would like to be friends with him, but I think it's too precarious a situation for me to bother investing myself in further.

No Nik update, sadly. But in awkward "oh geez" news, Mash, the cafe military man, has invited me to a humanist panel next Monday. He thinks that I will have some thoughtful commentary that will really add to the event. I think I am flattered by the ego inflation, but not nearly as impressive as seems to think.

I never followed up with that last post, but I'll get to it at some point. It's just some general concern about attachment, Chuck, and rehashing some of the tensions that arose last year between me and Court.

That seems kind of heavy. I think I'll start tomorrow with my thoughts on Hand Jobs instead.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Truamatic Tuesday.

It's 9:56 ante meridiem and I am sitting in the cafe debating whether or not I want to start working on the paper due at 10:00pm tonight. Twelve hours and four minutes. Scratch that, three minutes. Kanye West is playing on the stereo and my motivation to do anything but sit and sip my double-shot-non-fat-two-splenda-packet mocha is absolutely minimal.

I haven't seen Nik yet, but maybe today he'll stop in and say hi, like he did last week when I apparently missed him. I don't know what happened to Gato Guy, but I kind of miss him. I never even got to make out with him.

Last night I went on a texting rampage. It was probably a horrible idea, but I couldn't help myself. I sent a text to Chuck, because I'm actually worried about Courtney. I'm worried

Elaboration to come.

Monday, November 27, 2006

O, miseram me!

Yeah, I'm a geek. Whatever.

Why do we have so much work in college? I thought it was supposed to be Collllllllllege, woot woot, party time. Yeah, right. Anyway, Mash, the military man from the cafe, facebook messaged me. He said he would love to continue our conversation. Hmm. We'll see what happens there.

A guy that I am pretty sure I met on that night out with Mad facebook friended me. I don't know why. I don't really know anything about him, other than the fact that in the four minutes that I was in the same room as him, I really wanted to make out with him. Surprise? No.

I just tied up a ton of loose ends and I feel like I've been super productive today. Unfortunately, I still have a ton of work that I probably should have done over the long weekend. But I didn't. So fuck.

I am so spaced out right now, I can't form complete thoughts. Liz and Elise came to visit this weekend, which was amazing, of course. Liz says Nik. I say I don't know. I don't know if that's even a remote possibility at this point, so I don't want to settle on something that might disappoint. Kit says Mr. Perfect. I say, sweet Jesus woman what are you thinking.

I would like to date someone. A regular booty call would be my preference, but then again I'd also settle for something else. I don't know what that something else is, but I'm kind of sick of having to get dressed and go out in order to... oh you know.

That reminds me, I've got a question (primarily for people who are unattached) that I'm curious about:
After a recent hookup, do you feel like you want to hook up with someone more than after it's been awhile? Okay, that sounds kind of confusing, but I mean, if you hook up with someone and the next weekend you're at a party, are you more likely to try and find someone to hook up with than if you hadn't hooked up with anyone in awhile? In other words, does time make you more or less horny.


Sunday, November 26, 2006


I am in the middle of doing laundry with Mr. Perfect. He brought me a brownie. Granted it was from his flight back to school (which indeed was upgraded to first class), but he knows I love brownies, and it was a sweet thought. I told him it was disgusting and we resumed our fake-fighting over everything thing. I think we should just get married. He likes to tease me about not having any guys in my life (like I would tell him), but I think he just likes baiting the hook. Today he told me that I couldn't find someone better than him. He said it as a joke, but I think he thinks it's true. The sad thing is, it probably is, but what's even sadder is that I will probably wind up settling for less. I can't even tell where "we" are anymore. He is very open that last year he persued me, but then this year he calls me drunk and has kissed me twice. So what do I think? I think I should stop kissing him back (though isn't fair that it's completely my responsibility, since I have also been drunk when these kissing episodes have occured), and figure out how he feels before I just make things even more complicated and confused.

I don't know what I think about Chuck. I know what I would think if he where here, but he's not. So instead I like the thought of him. I think that's the only reason I'm into him at all. It's a dead end. It can't go anywhere, and he is good to talk to. I think he likes having really personal relationships with everyone though. I don't think I should feel special or doted on just because he calls or texts. I think he likes the reciprocity of attention, which I appreciate too. It's nice to have someone to share things with that won't judge you. I don't know how many other people he's sharing things with, but I like the fact that he's three thousand miles away and has no way of throwing things back in my face.

As for Nik, I am kind of excited for him to come back because I want to see where things stand. I mean, I really like him, but I don't know. Things have moved so slowly and I have no idea what he thinks or feels about anything. I don't even know if he thinks there is something to be thinking about. It's annoying. I hate talking to him when other people are around - at least other people who know about the thing that I've been thinking about (confused yet?) - because they always give me false hope. Like Court the other day, who said that he was staring at me the whole time we were talking before dinner. The dinner, before that fateful text message. Or Kit who claims that at the dinner conversation between her, Nik, the Ex, and myself, he wasn't really talking to anyone else, and then she went on to point out that he did stay after until she and the Ex left just to talk to me. UGH. So much for carpe diem.

I just need this weekend to come so that I can make out with SOMEONE and get all of this other stuff out of my system.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

it never stops

Okay, so a few guys I haven't mentioned on my blog, but who of course are still in my life: The Hippie, and Mr. Perfect.

Now, Mr. Perfect's name is a little deceving, because although he is technically "perfect" he just isn't perfect for me. I've just never really been attracted to him, which is a problem since he is theoretically perfect. I mean, he's attractive, tall, warm, loving, sweet, nice, very intelligent, smart, comes from a good family, blah, blah, blah, gag me, blah, blah, blah. In ten years I'll probably kick myself for not marrying him, since he's going to be a doctor and probably cure cancer. But right, even if I wanted to, dating him wouldn't work out. Mostly because of an incident that I'll refer to as "the incident," and I'll probably explain one day. Okay, fine I'll explain it now, I was his date to a thing and hooked up with another guy in the men's room. Whoops. Happens to the best of us I suppose. Long story short, his friends hated me, and of course they didn't believe my story, which was that nothing happened. I had just "wandered off" on my own accord. Yeah. Right. He did believe me, and even if he didn't, he was willing to forgive me. It was a lot of drama that lasted the entire year, but hey, whatever, we've gotten past that. His friends are even okay with me now.

Regardless, on to The Hippie. The Hippie is kind of my ideal. He's adorable, has these intense blue eyes, and can hold eye contact like none other. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, while his eyes are locked with yours, you'll swear that you're in love with him. His eyes are just so beautiful and intense, they make you all tingly. Anyway, last year we would see each other all of the time in the dining hall, and this year he lives on the other side of campus, sadly enough. We talked via email all summer, even though he was half way around the world, and so it was sad when we got back to campus and didn't talk nearly as much as we used to. Anyway, I'm still pretty much enamoured with him, when I see or talk to him, which is why I was so excited when he called yesterday.

I guess I should explain this. The Hippie called yesterday, just to say hi, which was nice. It was even nicer that he said we both have to take responsibility for not having seen each other, and that we should change that. Yes, Sir. He's at home now, but hopefully we'll hang out this week. Sadly enough, last time we hung out, we got stoned together and it was a lot less fun than not being stoned together. I don't know why, but it was super awkward in my head. We were alone in his room, and we had been having a great time before hand, but I guess that just killed it.

I'm hanging out with Mr. Perfect tonight. That should be good. Or weird. Or something. He's texted me for the past week asking to hang out and stuff, and today he sent me a bunch of texts saying that I was "a cutie" and the like. I dunno. I dunno.


Friday, November 24, 2006

home for the holiday

So this post is rather unnecessary, and is going to be completely bland, but I wanted to post something anyway.

Chuck texted me today while he was on a roadtrip with his family. He wanted to know if he could call and read me a poem while he was in the car with them, and then I could talk and he would listen and "nod."

I would have been incredibly flattered, except he called Courtney first. They were friends first, so I guess I can't really be disappointed or jealous. When he did call, it was a cute conversation. He helped brace me for Turkey Day, but I think i talked too much to let him read the poem. Plus, I think he read it to her already and it would have sounded strange to read the same thing twice.

Alright, I'm off to finish the night off with the move "Halloween" on AMC with Mommy Dearest. Oh yes, we're all about tradition in this family.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

sixty-one and counting

Chuck sent me sixty-one pages of poetry last night.

I really liked a lot of them.

What is wrong with me? We were on the phone for an hour yesterday in the middle of the afternoon, and then between the texts and the emails - I don't even know.

Seriously, why isn't he just here?


Lefty is in a band and they just released new music. It's amazing. I don't know how to tell him, but if he ever needs a groupie, I am first in line.

It went from like to lust at first listen.

um, awkward?

Okay, another teaching assistant sitting around the cafe decided that I would be a fun weekend venture or something of the sort. We'll call this guy Mash, for his support of the military. He was in special operations for five years, so he's got a lot of reasons to support the military.

It started out innocently enough, there was no one really around since it is the day before Thanksgiving, and I was working. I didn't have much to do so when he ordered he struck up a conversation. We talked about uninformed political opinion, my apathy towards the military and politics, and my own general lack of information about everything that is important to someone who has spent five years working in special operations. Strangely enough, it wasn't a one-sided conversation, as I explained to him that so many undergraduates are propents of causes they don't completely understand.

Anyway, long story short, we talked for about forty-five minutes, which was interesting. He was cute, but not my taste, his hair was buzzed short and his eyebrows were kind of thick, and I wasn't really into the whole post-military thing. Later he asked me to friend him on facebook (he was afraid he wouldn't get my name right), and then a few minutes later asked if I would be interested in getting together later.

I guess this really is the only time in my life that older men are going to be so easy to come by. Maybe I should enjoy it. Maybe I should at least try and get a few free dinners out of it.


My life has gotten rather bland and I've been at a loss of posting. I do have to post Nik's last text though:

"Enjoy the break! And upon our return, we shall do ice cream...happy thanksgiving!"

According to Courtney, he is weird. According to the resident dean of my dorm, he is weird.

Why do I think he's so normal? For the record, Courtney used to think he was awesome. To quote, "he's someone you would want to have pillow talk with when it was over."

Kit said the text was weird too.

Bea said that he was just weird.

Am I missing something?

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

not that bad.

Okay, so maybe I was being just a tiny bit dramatic yesterday.

Okay, maybe I was being very dramatic, but that doesn't matter because today when I woke up I had a text message that made things a lot better.

Yes, it was from Nik, and yes it did make me feel a lot better about life.

Monday, November 20, 2006

still awake.

I haven't responded to his text. I guess it wasn't the blunt and harsh "no" that I made it out to be. It was a bit more like this:

"Ah i'd love to but i'm setting work stuff in order followed by rehersal and may not be back until midnight! Thank you very much for the offer though - i"

I don't know what the "-i" was going to be followed by, but I am curious what it might have said. Bah.

I hate boys. A lot.

What do I say?



I'm going to bed.

seventeen minutes

. . .and still no response.

Seriously, the anxiety is nothing to laugh at.

maybe, just maybe

I am at the social level of an inept sixth grader.

Courtney just texted Nik from my phone inviting him out for ice cream. Yes, ice ceam. Yes, as in weird, awkward, pseduo date situation. No, he has not responded, No I don't think he is going to.

Life is awkward. I am awkward.

Now I am almost nervous.

dashed expectations

Well this weekend officially went from being "the greatest weekend of the year" to "I lied around in bed all weekend because it really was THAT miserable."

So even though it was a weekend full of parties, and a weekend full of students from other schools, it still wound up being a terrible weekend. At least Friday night was bad, and I decided not to take my chances on Saturday.

Friday I went out with Courtney, we started pregaming in her room since alcohol restrictions were supposed to be really strict all over campus. She had already started drinking before I got there, and I had no idea what or how much she had to drink. I had my Bicardi and diet coke, as per usual, and then Eric came over and began to help me down the bottle (it was the small just over liter sized bottles).

Court has a drink from it, I had walked out of the room to see a party outside for a few minutes, but I told her not to drink. I began getting on her case about it, which of course pissed her off since she was drunk. Then Eric started being an asshole about it and I started to tell him not to drink in an effort to get her to stop drinking.

This tactic worked for all of no minutes, as he just got really annoyed that I told him he should stop drinking since he had a 7:30 swim workout in the morning. Really, I know for the most part he can control himself. He almost always winds up getting up in the morning and taking care of all of his responsibilities, I just wanted him to get the message to Courtney who had already pinned me as the "bad guy."

Finally we left, once the rum way gone of course, I was tipsy, but definitely not drunk. They wanted to go to the party they knew they could drink more at and I tried to drag them to another drier party for the sake of sobering up. Of course they didn't want to listen to me, and I would up getting into an argument with Eric as I was trying to explain to him why I wanted to stay there. He kept on saying "whatever, she's fine, whatever."

So I slapped him. Maybe I was a little more than tipsy, but even if I had been sober he would have deserved it. Depsite the fact that he might have deserved the slap, it did little to make the night any better. It made things a whole lot worse. He got angry at me and when we left the first party and headed to the second he was being such a jerk that I decided fine, he could take care of her all night, after all, he said he would.

So I left the two of them in the courtyard in front of the party they had wanted to get to so badly. I was in there for an hour flirting with a guy who happened to be hooking up with this almost cute, but really not girl, which was fun and actually kind of hilarious. I might post about it later, only because it was funny, not exciting in the least though.

I kept trying to call Court from different phone numbers because I really wanted to make sure she was okay, and I was afraid that she would be pissed from earlier and screen my calls. She is a testy drunk, but I really did just want to check in. She wasn't picking up and I was a little worried, but figured she was just having a gay ol' time with Eric, when I got a call from him. She was taken to the Hospital.

It turns out that she had a BAC of .385 - the average person is completely billgerent and incoherent at .2, and .1 is the legal driving limit in most states though it's trying to be lowered to .08-.09 in most states. Yes, she was almost four times higher than the legal limit. The hospital said that she was fortunate not to have gone into a coma, and that it was lucky she got there early enough for them to treat her.

I yelled at Eric that night for over an hour. I was crying and yelling, and yelling and crying. It's not so much that I blame him for her actions, but I just wanted him to see what made him contribute to what had happened. He actually thought it was okay for her to drink straight from a handle, which she apparently chugged.

I got back to my room at close to four and I was beat. The next day I didn't really feel like drinking, and I just slept. That night I was still kind of bummed out and just spent some time with Court, and then sat around watching Scrubs online. It could have been a great weekend - Epic even - but it wasn't.

Le Sigh.

Friday, November 17, 2006

no is the new yes

I might as well have lost my virginity last night, because my midterm sure as hell fucked me this morning.

I went to a "Goodbye Rummy!" party in honor of Rumsfeld's resignation. It probably would have been a great party, if that midterm wasn't nagging me. It was probably good that I left though, because if I had stayed and gotten drunk, there is the distinct possibility that I would have tried to hook up with this guy Courtney has a "thing" for. I didn't leave *because* of that, but It was probably the biggest perk to leaving. Aside from getting sleep.

Bea came out of the blue today. I seriously just need her here. Maybe if she were here, I would have life figured out and I wouldn't need to literally try and spell everything out on a blog. Anyway, she does not approve of Nik. Everyone else does, but she says that he just isn't... right. She thinks Austin is great though, as does everyone else, and that he is cuter. Yes, Austin is a tall, dashing guy with a great accent, but I don't know. I just like Nik. Dammit.

Tonight my plan is pretty much to get drunk and molest him. I'm sick of waiting around for potentially nothing. I'd rather just see what happens and at least know what's going on than this ambiguous "lets-hang-out-but-not-make-plans-so-just-see-each-other-in-passing-and-then-hopefully-talk-but-definitely-not-make-out" thing. WHAT THE HELL, isn't he bored of talking yet? I sure am.

Nik went to a movie tonight. He did not ask me if I would like to attend with he and his friends. I am beginning to think I'm over this. Maybe I'll make out with Austin just to spite him. If I didn't like Austin so much as a friend, I would totally be all over him tonight. Obviously I would get him good and drunk so that he wouldn't object. No is the new yes - at least if you're a young gentleman that I am looking to go home with.

My midterm was horrendous, in case you were wondering, and had missed the first line of this post.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

a mite problematic

Okay, so usually I don't get distressed over male affections, but an invitation for what could be potentially a "date"-esque thing worries me.

There is a guy, whom we'll call "Martian" for a reason slightly to obsecure to explain, who is a good a friend and I really enjoy talking to. He was one of the guys I had a long dinner time conversation with the other day. He is one of the few people that I really LOVE talking to about nothing and everything.

We're not "close" friends though, and we just recently became friends, which means our relationship hasn't quite been thrust into the "friendzone" yet. I hope we're getting there, but his recent request for companionship to a movie could be taken two ways. 1.) We're friends and moving steadily in the friendzone or 2.) I don't want to think about it.

I know it sounds a little arrogant for that to be my first assumption, but I don't really think it is. I haven't given too much context to the asking, but let's just say that there is the distinct probability that I am moving into the friendzone alone in this relationship.


even better

This is about a thousand times better than anything I could ever post. Watch it. Love it.

YouTube is the greatest thing to come out of the internet since porn.

yay for me.

I am the new Resources Development Chair for the public service organization here on campus!

I'm excited!


I had a four hour meeting. I didn't have time for life today, let alone my beloved blog. Tomorrow I have Sociology lecture, so expect a doozy of a post. Hopefully I'll have good news about Cafe Guy. . .

Oh, and it's the kick off to the Weekend of Mass Destruction! The weekend we honor the first American university rivalry. Fuck Friday mornings's midterm, Hello Thursday night's debauchery. This is the weekend of "The Game."

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

forgot. again.

I completely forgot to post that I forgot to meet Politico for dinner last night. Luckily I showed up in the dining hall a half an hour later - to meet Court - so I told him I had gotten the times confused.

He was really nice about it, but looked really happy that I actually had shown up. He asked for my phone number and told me that next time we had plans for dinner, he would make sure that I couldn't forget.

It's too bad that I am such an asshole that I forgot about forgetting about ten minutes after it happened.

The word "forgot" is getting a little redundant, so I'll just end this post by saying that I won't forget to post something that's interesting enough to remember later.

i must be dense.

My overachieving roommate has been stealing my ADHD meds.

The only thing that surprises me is that I didn't see it coming, or catch her earlier.

That being said, I really must be dense.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006


I just trudged out of my room to take a quick break from my two hours of concentrated studying. As you may remember, I am a devote follower of The Naked rule, which is why I decided to peel off my sweat pants and stained long sleeved T-shirt and put on something more appropriate to be seen wearing in public.

The dining hall puts food out at night for students who might need a little more substance for a long night of studying, which means that half of the dorm is usually either sitting around the round tables in study groups, alone huddled in front of their computer screens at the end of the long tables, or hoarding food in the servery. The likelihood of running into someone that A.) I have hooked up with B.) I want to hook up with or C.) I am not sure whether we hooked up or not is pretty high, especially on a Tuesday night, since a "normal" campus social scene only exists from Thursday through Saturday - from Sunday through Wednesday, the dorm dining halls are the closest things you'll find to a party. Except maybe the library. Yeah, we're mutha' fuckin' party animals.

Consequently, I thought I might run into Nik who is a frequent late night scavenger, so I decided to throw on the Jeans I had been wearing earlier and a little black hoodie. Val was on her way out and I didn't want to make her wait up for me, so I told her to give me a fifteen second countdown - big mistake. By the time she got to fourteen I thought I was pretty much ready, I had zipped up on jeans and had one arm through my hoodie. I didn't even bother grabbing my card or my keys since she had hers.

As soon as we got to the stairwell, I started to put my hair down, out of the "tight bun" 'do that I don't think anyone should be seen in outside of their bedroom. I was pretty focused on finger combing my hair until we got into the dining hall. By that time I was confident, cool, and collected. I looked around and didn't see Nik or anyone else I like running into (male or female), and I was a little bummed, but more hungry. I made my three sandwiches (peanut butter and jelly, jelly, buttered toast, and butter and jelly on toast... if anyone cares), and then Val and I awkwardly strutted out trying not to drop any of our precious cargo, which in addition to our sandwiches also included a bowl of cereal, three cups of milk, and a cup of tea between the two of us. Like I said, awkward.

Anyway, I saw this guy who lives with Lefty on our way out of the back entrance and he kind of gave me a funny look, which I obviously assumed was in response to the feast we were carrying. While we were making our food, Val had tried to introduce me to one of our next-door neighbors, who was having a hard time looking me in the eye - or even directly at me - and kept averting her eyes out of my direction. I just assumed that she was shy, and passed it off, just like I passed off the funny look from Lefty's roommate.

When we finally got back to our room, and I had put down my plate and cups, I suddenly realized why they had been acting so strange.

My hoodie was unzipped right down to my navel. Yes, my bra was exposed. Yes, my bright pink bra with contrasting lace trim was fully visible to anyone within ten yards of me. Yes, it was embarrassing. No, I have no idea how many of the 60 people that I walked past noticed. No, I don't want to know.

On the bright side, at least I was wearing a bra.

in case you were curious

Cafe Guy did not stop by today. I did find out however, that he came in last Thursday and waited around for awhile. I am guessing that's what prompted his message, which makes me even more giddy than I thought I could possibly be... especially over a guy that I don't really know. This means I'm going to have to look nice on Thursday - afterall I don't want to disappoint.

I didn't see Nik at dinner, despite the two hours I spent there. I had some really interesting conversations with a bunch of people I don't get to talk to nearly enough. I know I should have come back and started work earlier, but sitting around talking made me feel so much better about life.

I missed a dinner date with this guy, whom I'll refer to as "Politico" because he's really invested in, you guessed it, politics. Politico is really cute and technically perfect, and I think if I act interested I might give him the wrong idea. It's a vibe, and I could totally be off, but for some reason I don't think he just wants to be friends. I made that mistake once already, and trust me, I do not want to do it again. One day when I have less work to do I'll probably write a post about the greatest love that never was, but for now I think I am going to stare at my Latin notebook until my face goes numb.

tired tuesday

I could not sleep at all last night. Maybe it was the excitment of Cafe Guy's facebook message (probably not), or the warm afterglow of my conversation with Nik (also probably not). Instead of happy thoughts keeping me turning over and over in my bed, I think it was worry. I'm worried about Court, who has a lot of intense family problems arising at a time when she's still trying to figure out how to fix her own problems. I'm worried about my academic standing, mostly due to the Science course I am taking that is pretty much devesting my GPA and overall emotional stablity. I am worried about officer elections tomorrow, which are going to take up a lot of time that I don't have this week because I have a midterm in the afore mentioned science course, which I could quite possibly fail. I am worried about not being able to sleep, which makes it even harder to sleep.

I think the best course of action for all of these worries is denial. There is nothing I can do other than get through my work, and try my best at the things I can't control. If I deny to myself that I'm worried about any of it, maybe I can convince myself that I'm not, that I don't care about the outcome and rest easy knowing that I did what I could.

Obviously I am mildly neurotic, so no matter how much I try to pretend I'm not anxious about everything it won't make me any less anxious. At least I can usually fool other people.

Denial aside, my next most appealing option is distraction, which would pretty much amount to fixating on more the more enjoyable things in my life like boys, blogging, or organizing my shoes in the manner most efficacious to acessorization and space maximization.

Speaking of my shoes, I think I am going to arrange by color and heel size.

Monday, November 13, 2006

my day is made

"i havent seen u lately... i guess i got your shifts wrong..
days are perfect for a hot chocolate...mmm
c u

Hot. Hot. Hot. That's all I can say. The 28 year-old hot Chilean graduate student has officially made my day. Night, whatever. I am in lust! The shop was closed on Friday, and he surprisingly didn't come in on Thursday, so I haven't seen him in just over a week. I wonder what to think of the message. Maybe he just wants some hot chocolate. Maybe he wants sex and hot chocolate.

You never think that someone might actually be thinking of you. I spend a lot of time thinking about guys (in case you hadn't noticed), but it always surprises me (in a good way) when it turns out that one of them is thinking of me.

I wonder if his thoughts are as dirty and inappropriate as mine. God, I hope so.

verbal vomit

Okay, I think I can officially diagnose myself with social Tourette's syndrome. I don't want to be too "un-PC" here, but I seriously cannot control what comes out of my mouth around Nik. At least I finally started to be able to actually speak around him. This is an improvement. The quality of what I say, however, could still use some work.

Before I get ahead of myself, I should give some context to my proclamation of social ineptitude. I went to dinner with a friend and after sitting for awhile, guess who walks in? Yup, Nik. Guess who he is with? Yup, the Ex. At first I was a little off put by this sighting, and it provoked a pretty mouthy reaction. Obviously the most terrible scenerio came to first, which is that they are still hooking up (if Catholics do that), or even worse, that they had resumed dating. They sat in a seculded table in near the entrance of the dining hall that was just out of sight of me and my friend. We resumed focus on our own conversation after a few minutes of talking about Nik and his Ex, whom my friend happened to know from random pre-college get together, but I continued to silently wish that the Ex would spill something or drop her tray.

As much as I was unhappy about the Ex presence in *my* dining hall, she did ultimately make my night. As she walked by to put her tray away, I waved and then in a move completely out of character, I invited her over to join our conversation. She took a seat and I asked her opinion on the matter being discussed (one-sided friendships), and I sucked her into our bubble. Maybe subconsciously I knew the logical chain of events would include Nik coming over, but lets just pretend I was being friendly.

If you didn't catch that, Nik came over to the table. Then the Ex left. Then the friend left. Then it was Nik and I. We sat down and talked for a long time, mostly about professors, a little about his roommates, and then about some other stuff. The details are a little fuzzy because I was trying really hard to make eating barbaque tofu look cute. Or at least not disgusting. Anyway, he was funny and interesting, and I was amused. I hope he was too - despite the overwhelming smell of the barbaque tofu.

They started wiping down the tables, the table we were at in particular, and that was our cue to leave. He didn't have his swipe, and my new one was just activated (my, how the tables have turned), so we walked through the basement tunnel to get to our respective entryways together.

We then proceeded to talk for another half an hour on the stairs of the basement, and the entire time I kept saying things that I immediately regretted saying. I mean, I didn't insult his mother or anything like that, but I would just start babbling uncontrollably, which is a clear indicator of my inability to handle any sort of even potential emotional attachment. He just looked so cute and I thought if I stopped talking that I might do something I regretted. Like kiss him. That was the thought that kept running through my mind while standing there, and anytime I shut my mouth I had the urge to just plant one on him. So, I just kept on talking. It wasn't a completely one-sided conversation or anything, but to be totally honest, I wasn't really listening to what he was saying, it was a huge distraction from staring dreamily into his eyes. Okay, maybe staring dreamily into his eyes isn't exactly what I wanted to be doing, but it sounded a lot better than "mentally undressing him" or "visually molesting him."

There was one point where neither of us were talking and it just about killed me. Why didn't I just stick my tongue into his mouth while I had the chance? It was quite, no one was around, we were just standing there looking at each other, I was so tempted, but instead it was just another round of verbal vomit. I must have talked about everything that has happened to me in the last month while we were standing there. I didn't even manage to carry out my movie plan. I didn't ask him about what movies he likes, I didn't invite him to watch one. No, instead I talked about Latin, tea, and my affinity for exploring dirty old basements. Seriously, that is what I talked about.

My mouth is completely and utterly useless sometimes.

my favorite reason to go to class

So I went to two out of three of my classes today, which much better than I have been doing in recent weeks. I used to be such a good student and balance out all of my responsibilities, but now I feel like I am just all over the place. I'm keeping up with my extracurricular commitments, and I'm actually nominated for three positions in the student public service organization, which is incredibly cool and quite an honor to me. Classes have taken a backseat, and for the most part I have been happier, until procrastination bites me in the ass and I have a Latin translation, a problem set, a response paper, and other assorted homework assignments staring me in the face.

Alas. It's my own fault, so I can't really complain about it so much as try and find a balance again. A huge part of it is motivation, which I've never really lacked, but I'm having trouble equally distributing right now. One saving grace in my Latin class is my professor. He is young. He is British. He is sexy... in a totally awkward, geeky way. You know underneath that tweed jacket (yes, he wears a tweed jacket almost every day), there is an animal waiting to be unleashed. That was the most cliche metaphor I think I have used on this blog, but it is suitable for the fantasy that plays in my head every Monday and Wednesday from 11:00am until noon.

I think I have a "thing" for older authority figures. Maybe it's a fetish, maybe it's a phase, whatever it is I need to get it out of my system. Maybe if I have a fling with my 28 year-old Coffee Shop suitor ("Cafe Guy" from now on) I'll get over it. Since high school I have always had a purely sexual crush on at least one of my teachers. In high school it was my math teacher, who always managed to say or do something that almost crossed the line. All of his actions and words could easily have been interperted in a strictly non-sexual way, but my dirty mind liked to think that he knew exactly how I might be taking it. Ha, even "taking it," sounds dirty to me. His wife never liked me, which I always found a little strange, but I doubt it was because of all of the "extra help" that I asked for, or the hugging, or winking.

Last year I used to daydream about a stats teaching assistant. He wasn't even that cute, but there was something about his crunchy-hippy vibe and love of teaching that made him a suitable fantasy. The next semester I had a Latin teaching assistant who often verged on inappropriate, asking about my private life, keeping me after class, and definitely practicing grade inflation. It wasn't that I was attracted to him, but I was attracted to the thought that if I really wanted, I probably could take full advantage of his position and not only "earn" an A with my extra effort, but have control over someone with some form of authority over me.

This semester, its my Latin professor. He is refined, and the accent really does me in. He's married or engaged, which makes the thought of him even more enticing. I love the way he makes eye contact - it never fails to get my attention. He is relaxed in a slightly uptight way, which makes me wonder what he would be liked in bed. Considering the fact that he is a Classical scholar, he would probably be dominating and virile in the bedroom. Very Virgilian, think Brad Pitt in Troy. I have heard that his wife, fiancé, special lady friend, or whatever is a gorgeous lawyer, and that she is moving from her practice a few states away to be with him. If that is the case, I think there is some merit to the assumption that he is good in bed.

I think inappropriate sexual crushes are fun. I don't think I'll ever act on one, no matter how much I want to, for a few reasons. The biggest one being that I don't know how I would initiate it. I think it would be interesting to hear from people who have had illict affairs with a professor, teaching assistant, or even more taboo a high school teacher.

For now I'll just be content with my dirty fantasies - they're pretty much what gets me up to class on Monday mornings.

foiled again

Dammit, he doesn't list his favorite movies. This plan is already not working out the way that I had hoped.

I'll just have to be a little bit more pragmatic. Next time I see him at a meal, I'll dig around for his favorite movies, or movies he should see. Maybe I'll force him to watch Annie Hall with me. If he hasn't seen it, he should. If you haven't seen it, you should. I think he'd really like it, and if he doesn't then I don't think I can like him.

that's good, right?

I saw Nik at the House Masters' Open House tonight. We talked some, and then explored the landing of the house, which was gorgeous by the way. I wish I didn't just bottle up around him though. I have a mouth that usually won't quit, and for some reason I'm having trouble talking to someone I always talk to. Blah. We still managed to have a pretty good conversation, despite my sudden inability to speak. He apologized again for his texts not getting to my phone yesterday - I don't know if I mentioned, but he said that he texted me a bunch of times yesterday and that I didn't respond, and he's assuming that his phone is screwed up, and blah, blah, blah. I guess I believe him, I mean technically God will smite him if he's lying, right?

Anyway, I don't like this weird little tension thing going on. I think this week I am just going to ask him if he wants to watch a movie or something. Maybe I'll invite him and Austin to go see a movie or something, which would take the pressure off of everyone involved. I could be super creepy and stalk his facebook profile, figure out his favorite movie, get it from the library and then causually ask him if he would like to watch it.

That is an absolutely genius idea, and I think it is going to be my next course of action with Nik. Maybe I'll get Courtney in on it, or possibly Austin (although I wouldn't tell him why I wanted to watch a movie with him), just to make it less awkward.

Okay, I have officially regressed to the emotional mindset of maybe an 11 year-old.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

the naked rule

After an hour and a half of sitting in the reading room looking at facebook and repeatedly checking my email, I finally went back to my room to take a nap. Since work is clearly something that I am not doing right now, I thought I might as well fill my beloved friends in on why I do not wear sweat pants to the dining hall.

I can never just "leave my room" even if I'm just running out of my dorm for a second, or even just going to get something to eat in the dining hall. I doubt that anyone except for those who have actually shared a room with me have seen me without makeup on, and God forbid that anyone catch me with my hair in all it's unbridled glory. That being said, a lot of people wonder about my strict adherence to public upkeep, especially when they know that I am not a neat, organized, or particularly put together person in the privacy of my own room.

The answer simply put is "The Naked Rule." The Naked Rule, or "TNR," is one of the few unwritten bylaws of social interaction that I have taken to heart and internalized. The Naked Rule states that the more naked someone has seen you, the better you want to look everytime they see you after that - in clothes especially. Following TNR is a personal choice that doesn't reflect on how much I care about the opinions of the guys I've hooked up with, it's actually just because I want to always have the upper hand. Whether they've seen me naked, topless, bottomless, or clad in anything that covers less then you would feel comfortable with your mother seeing, then they fall into the category of someone who has seen too much of me. Subsequently, I would just rather look better than worse if I happen to bump into them again later on. When I moved out of my freshman dorm into an upperclassmen house, I thought I would be saved the trouble. Unfortunately I moved into a house chock full-o-boys that I managed to fit into my Freshman year weekend rotation. When I ate at in the Freshman dining hall, I always managed to at least look decent. I had a lot of guys that The Naked Rule applied to.

This year TNR has evolved a little bit. It now also applies to mental nakedness. As in the case with Nik, who has not seen me in anything less than appropriate (he didn't even see my Halloween costumes), I still feel like he has seen more of me than I would like. I actually told him that I liked him and thought he was cute, which is true, but I don't know what that means and until I do, I don't want him to see me looking less than "moderately okay" to "good."

The Naked Rule seems a little shallow, but lets be honest here, how many of you want a guy that you've hooked up with to see you looking your worse? There is a vulernablity that stems from a guy's knowledge of your body and The Naked Rule is merely a way to try and side-step it. The rule is not meant to be applied to a boyfriend, or even a close friend that you've accidently hooked up with, but really just guys that you don't want to have any more reason to judge you or picture you naked every time you see them. I know that very few would probably care if they caught me in my sweat pants, but for my own sake and sanity, I perfer it.

On that note, I am going to slip into some Seven jeans, touch up my eyeliner, and go to dinner.

an IHOP affair.

For breakfast, brunch actually, I had blueberry pancakes, sliced hashbrowns, and scrambled egg whites. Doesn't that seem like something straight off of an IHOP menu?

As classy of a lady as I am, the point of this post isn't about my Sunday brunch. It's about the fact that Nik was there. We talked. I sat next to him. I am gettting past the nervous awkward thing. It is so strange, after the events of Thursday night transpired, everything changed. Things got weird. We went from being friends who would talk about everything and anything, to being friends who kind of awkwardly said hi. Things are much better now, three days later, and I hope that something happens rather soon or we go back to being friends. I can't stand this awkward in between.

Brunch was good though, we got to make fun of Austin and chat about last night and our agendas for today. I sat next to him, abandoning my seat at the table with Courtney, Kristen, my house masters and their son - who is very cute by the way. I told Nik I would be spending the day studying in the reading room of our house library, and I kind of hope he stops by. I also kind of don't. Le sigh.


I was also lucky enough to find half a bag of pretzels. They had gotten a little chewy, but they made waiting for my soup to cook so much more bearable.

space cadet

I had a stellar night, despite the fact that I am a certified space case right now. Nik hosted a party and invited Courtney and I to attend. We chatted and it was cute, but then he had to run. I don't know, I don't know. He definitely seemed interested, but I don't know how I feel about it. I don't like this nervous/awkward thing going on. Honestly, Alice in Wonderland made more sense to me than whatever is going on with him. Then again, I think Alice might be a little closer to my state of mind than Nik - afterall, she's the one seeing hookah-smoking caterpillars and disappearing cats, so I am relatively normal next to her. Please disregard the fact that I just compared myself with a cartoon character. Jesus, I'm stoned. Oh, like you didn't know.

I'm going to eat my Thai Kitchen bowl of noodles now.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

taco day

I slept through lunch again today. This is the second week in a row that I have missed build your own taco day in the dining hall, my favorite meal of the week. I really need to start going to bed before the sun comes up. I'm not doing myself any favors staying out until five in the morning and coming back and eating noodle bowls.

I've decided that I actually like Nik. I don't generally get anxious about a guy, but with him I want him to call because I want to hang out with him. I want to spend some time with him. I don't just want to play "I'll Show You Mine, If You Show Me Yours." I don't just want to watch his flatscreen TV. I don't want to just makeout. Okay, maybe I do kind of want those things too, but they are completely secondary to just hanging out.

Then again, maybe I just like hanging out with him as a friend. I mean, that's worked out so far, the only difference was I didn't feel like a geek waiting around for him to call me. Usually I am fine with these things. Usually I don't actually *care* about these things. Usually I do not go for the "nice" boys. In fact, I generally tried to avoid nice boys like the plague. Am I going soft here or something?

Will someone please explain to me why the nice Catholic boy hasn't called, why I almost made out with my Eastern European (thank God, his friend was visiting last night), and why my alarm didn't go off to wake me up in time for taco day (yes, I am so pathetic I set an alarm to make sure I woke up before 2:30 in the afternoon and still slept through it)?


same hot pot.

Different soup.

Before I forget, I should mention that after last night's condensed mushroom soup debacle, even in my drunken haze I managed to preemptively avoid another such situation. Tonight I stopped at 7-11 and bought "Asian-style" noodle bowls. Thank you Jesus for inventing the Shin Bowl, and of course the Thai Kitchen Hot & Sour soup.

I was a $1.48 short for my purchases, but a little song and dance later, I had enough Asian-style noodle bowls to be content.


Okay, so I went out. It's now 5:10 in the morning and I've just arrived back to my humble abode. You didn't really think that I would let a Friday night slip by without doing anything, now would I?

I am really angry at Courtney. Actually, really, really angry. This is what she had to say to leaving me waiting for over two hours:

"probably but we both know im a bad person. im going to sleep. not fighting over this. inevitably losing over this. you can bitch at me tomorrow. but my phone dying and not calling you and going to sleep is not so horrible"

That was it. Not even sorry. I had actually been kind of happy about the way my night turned out before I got back. I honestly need to evaluate my friendship with her because it is seriously becoming very one-sided. In the last twenty-four hours she has elbowed me in the face and then completely ditched me tonight. Then she claims that she didn't call earlier because I would have been "antagonistic." Yes, I would have become hostile if she broke off plans fifteen minutes before we were supposed to leave, but a hell of a lot less hostile than I am now. I should get trashed and punch her in the face. It's her excuse for elbowing me yesterday.

Fuck that.

Anyway, about my night. I went to the party that I had been planning on going to, but I guess I missed it when it was at it's peak. My Eastern European man came to my rescue and brought me in, so I didn't have to show up alone afterall. My dress got a *very* positive reaction, and I have to say, I am pretty pleased with my outfit. I actually got a stairwell full of boys sitting there trying to think of words to describe the dress. The final verdict was "Dammmmmmmmn!" They were drunk. I was drunk. The objectification was not protested.

I flirted with many-a-young men, but I had just missed Italia. Instead I played nice with my Eastern European man, a boy who I had begun talking to at the end of the summer, and a few others. I wound up walking over to my Eastern European man's apartment, which was pretty nice. I hadn't been there before and I can't say that I wasn't impressed.

My Eastern European was being quite the gentleman and told me that he's always meant everything he's said to me, in particular the drunk love confessions. He was sober, which made his late-night alcohol induced proposals a lot more heartfelt. Sort of. It was funny to see him say a lot of those things in person. I was pretty flattered, which is probably why I wound up walking hand-in-hand with him to his apartment. He had his arm around my waist most of the night and I kept expecting him to kiss me when we were alone, especially when we were standing outside of the club and then again outside of his apartment. I also wasn't expecting his friend to be visiting from NYU, so when we got upstairs there wasn't even a mood to kill. We were all just hanging out.

Tonight was a lot of fun, but I kind of wanted to kiss my Eastern European tonight. I think it is because I was (for the first time in history) more drunk than he was, and he was just being so sweet. Add that to the fact that I am a little insecure and upset about Nik not texting me back, being angry about Courtney, being drunk, and not wanting to come back to an empty room and you've got all the ingredients for a completely regrettable hook up with a friend that you never meant to hook up with. I am really glad nothing happened, but he just looked so cute in his tux tonight.

Chuck sent me another poem that I really loved. I just emailed him back, and if he's up, I hope he calls or emails me back. I could use some company. Especially company that is too far away with to make out with. I need to settle down for a few days (or weeks, rather), and just figure some stuff out. Tomorrow is Saturday night, so we'll see how well I stick to that.


So Courtney ditched me. The party started an hour ago and I have been trying to get in touch with her for the last two. I am all dressed up, I want to leave, but I absolutely do not want to go to the club by myself. I texted my Eastern European and if he'll come meet me, then I'll go, but I just think it's a bad idea to show up to a gentlemen's club by yourself. I mean even if I know some of the guys inside, I still don't want to make it obvious that I am alone. It's part precaution and part pride.

I am actually really pissed. If she had told me earlier I could have found someone else to go with. Now it's 1:00 in the morning and clearly anyone that's going out tonight is already out. Now it's Friday night and I am really unhappy, looking cute, and sitting in my room.

Not to mention Nik never texted back. Yesterday was like a manic high and tonight is just a low. I had such high expectations for tonight and now it seems like everything has just kind of fallen to pieces.

Blah. I think it's time to get out of my dress, turn on some Avril Lavigne or other laughably angsty chick rock and try and fall asleep.

Friday, November 10, 2006

weekend wonderland.

Final Punch Dinner after party tonight at my current favorite gentlemen's club.

Italia will be there. My Eastern European man will be there. I would not be surprised if Mad shows up too.

For some reason, I have a feeling tonight could get very very interesting.

this took a turn

I had turned my ringer off. He did text me back.

"You there now? I'm constructing the insturment"

Phew. I was getting a little worried, which makes me think that I might actually like Nik. I'm hesitant to say that I actually like him after a long conversation with Beatrice last night. She pointed out that I might just like the idea of him. Yes, I've thought he was cute since I met him. Yes I've liked him as a friend and had one of those "I wish I knew you better" type crushes on him. But, no, I never actually considered hooking up with him. Or "dating" him.

I actually really liked his roommate (whom we'll call "Austin") for a lot of last year, and I definitely was closer friends with Austin up until this year. One day last spring Austin and I went to a park in the city and ate Italian pastries and laughed about pigeons and people for hours. It was hot. I actually thought there might have been something there, but that fizzled out pretty quickly. Nothing ever happened after that, we just stayed friends, which was definitely for the best.

Anyway, back to Nik. Bea pointed out that I might just like the fact that he was so cute and charming and niave. She also pointed out that I might not like those things for very long. He's not planning on putting out for anyone anytime soon, which sounds ideal for a virgin like me, but even then I don't think we would see eye-to-eye moralistically. I wouldn't want to have to be the aggressor either, which brings us back to the question of dominating versus domination. I like it when a guy knows how to lead the way, but then again, I also liked the innocent tension of last night. I feel like I missed out on that since I never had a boyfriend or really "dated" anyone.

The last time I had any build-up before a hook up was last semester with Eric. And Jesus Christos, did I regret that. He was such a good friend and I liked him, but never in a way that I wanted to act on it. I liked that he would come over before meals and invite me to his room to watch the Soparnos. Hooking up pretty much killed all of that. After that one night, he just kind of got colder. I mean we're clearly still friends and we were still friends then, but all of a sudden he wouldn't call me without calling Courtney first. He wouldn't have me over alone. Unless he was drunk. Then he would go back to doing the touchy-feely thing, but it never lead to anything.

Then he broke my face. That killed my erection completely. He was giving me a piggyback ride after we had consumed a box, yes a box, of cheap rose wine (do they make "classy" rose wine?). I had to get eight stitches in my face. He was really sweet for that entire night though, I'll give him that. He held my hand the whole time and sat with me on the steps of the library while I cried for a couple of hours. Then we went with me to CVS to pick out cute band-aids to cover up the stitches with. A week later, school was out for the summer and I didn't see him again until this fall. Last night was the first night I think I've ever really gotten mad at Eric. Even when we (it was both of our faults) broke my chin I realized that the blame was shared. We were both drunk and I should not have gotten on his back. He should not have offered me a piggy back ride and it was a complete accident that he tripped. In terms of things cooling down after we hooked up, I realized it was probably for the best. It would have really screwed things up between me and him, him and Courtney, and most importantly me and Courtney. As they say, it takes two to tango.

Last night when Eric threatened to beat up Nik and told me not to go anywhere with him, I just attributed it to him being drunk and protective. Then when he started doing the hugging and being super physical, I got kind of mad. I mean I was furious when he actually hit me, but I realized that he was drunk and trying to joke around like we do when we drink - he thinks it's funny to try and get me to him him... long weird story. Anyway, it was more the trying to throw me into his bed, and stroking my hair, and pulling me onto his lap that made me MAD. I was drunk at the time, but even in retrospect it's not fair that he gets drunk and starts acting like an overbearing boyfriend. ESPECIALLY in front of Nik. Eric hasn't even been very warm at all since the Architecture in Helsinki show, which was the last time he was really sweet and doting when he was drunk. We were at the show and he picked me up to make sure that I could see the band play all of my favorite songs.

It sucks that I liked him for so long and I was fine with just being friends, and now that I don't like him he acts like an asshole. When Courtney called him and told him what had happened last night (at least as much as she had heard from me, which was pretty much "Eric hit me"), he didn't call to apologize. All he said to her was, "I think I need to work on some of my anger issues."

Now I've gone and worked myself up. Blah. This post started out so happy and cute and it got really angry, really quickly. I do feel less mad at Eric about last night though.

what to do

When there is nothing to do.

No classes. No work. No schedule. Consequently I have been sitting at my computer for way too long today, pondering some of the great questions in life. Some questions that have arose include:

Dominating or being dominated in the bedroom, which do guys and girls prefer?

French fries or tater tots, which is the better processed potato product?

Was it wrong that I threw the bag full of the paper towls I cleaned the soup up with into the hallway causing the hallway to smell like condensed cream of mushroom soup, but saving my own room from smelling like it?

Should I have told Court about Nik and talking to Chuck last night? (Probably not).

Is global warming really THAT bad, I mean it's so nice outside?

Does a devotion to Jesus make a guy sexiar?

How much would it hurt to pierce your nipple? Maybe I'm a whimp, but even my ears hurt a lot. Why would you peirce your nipple?

Should I have sent that last text to Nik saying "that was a warm hello in the dining hall"?



So I just saw Nik at lunch (breakfast for me) and he didn't say hi.

Granted I walked past him with my head down and purposely avoided eye contact, but I would much rather place the blame on him - afterall, he's the one who has yet to return my text. The ball is in his court. I did my part.

I am thinking of texting him again. I don't know what to say though.

For the first time in a very long time, I am at a loss for words.


How Fantastik.

I definitely knocked over that hot pot full of soup about two and a half minutes after that last post. At least Val won't be subject to two day old soup that looks like it might grow legs and crawl when she gets back. Bottle of Fantastik in hand and still clad only in my underpants, I cleaned it all up. It would have been much better if I had cleaned it before I knocked it over, but that's just a little thing called "karma."

You know what? That isn't what karma means at all. But it sounded good, didn't it?

Anyway, I texted Nik when I got up this morning, "apologizing" for keeping him up late and thanking him (sincerely!) for his help putting Courtney and Eric to bed. He replied really quickly - literally a minute or two later - saying that he didn't wind up getting up for his 9:30am work shift anyway and asking what I was doing today. That's good right? I texted him back saying that I didn't know what I was doing today, but I really wanted to be outside. He hasn't responded yet, but for some reason I'm not doing my usual "freak out because more than six minutes have passed and he still hasn't replied to my text." I feel like he probably has a reason.

Could it be that I actually like this boy? Could it be that I really only got a kiss on the lips when I was drunk and still went to bed more sexually satisfied then ever before? Okay, by "sexually satisfied" I mean not. But I was giddy as a girlscout and I didn't care at all.

HE SAID HE LIKED ME. Okay, I'm back to the hyperventilating.


Life is all in the details. After looking at last night's post, I realized that I left out some details that really characterize my life.

Before any of the emailing happened I tried to make a can of Target rand condensed cream of mushroom soup in a hot pot, almost naked of course. When I am drunk alone in my room, a pair of underpants is pretty much my uniform. Making the soup was not an easy feat nor was it even worth the effort, but I my drunk munchies were a force to be reckoned with. I needed food and I needed it bad. I also polished off the rest of that bag of caramel covered Bugles, which were still disgusting only now they were also soggy and chewy. To paint the scene for you, I was squatting over a hot pot stirring the worst smelling concotion while eating a bag of soggy Bugels.

I have no shame.

To be fair, by the time the soup seemed ready I had sobered up enough not to eat it. It's still sitting in the hot pot in a corner of my room. That, my friends, is not going to be fun to clean up.

...I hope Val comes back from New York and washes the hot pot before I have to.


I just got off the phone with Chuck. If you are not surprised (and delighted) by this, then you are clearly not me. Or you probably haven't read any of the earlier posts.

A quick timeline of our relationship:

1.) Meet in September 2.) Don't speak for a month. Pass each other on the street without acknowledgment. 3.) Meet again at a part. Crawl through a dirty basement. Read poetry. Make out. He gets chased off by a security guard. 4.) Facebook messages one-three. 5.) Facebook Friendship and messages four-five. Email. 6.) Hour long phone conversation. 7.) More email.

Did I mention that 5-7 all happened tonight? We're not even in the same state. Not even on the same coast.

Why do I feel strangely satisfied?

one more thing

I forgot to mention that Chuck emailed me. He stepped it up from Facebook. He sent me two more poems. I really enjoyed them both.

Okay, I lied, I really enjoyed the one I read. I haven't read the other one.

. . .I was too busy hyperventilating about Nik.

i love

Life. It's an absolutely wonderful thing.

The champagne was everything I could have hoped for and then some. I didn't make out with anyone. I got kissed. Yes. Kissed. Not with tongue (get yo' mind out of the trash!), but a gentle on-the-lips-we're-both-kind-of-nervous kiss. Oh my lord. I've never been that nervous before. Butterflies and all. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Okay, not to get ahead of myself I'll try and explain what happened before I sober up and remember all the details that are too embarrassing to think about.

The night started pretty early, at dinner to be precise. I saw a young man that we'll call "Beatnik" or "Nik" for short, in the dinning hall when I was rushing back from tutoring. Nik has been a friend since my first days in the freshman dinning hall, but I never ever thought that anything would ever happen. Not because I didn't want it anything to happen, I've always had a little bit of a crush on him, but I just never thought it would. To be totally honest, I've always been a little intellectually intimidated by him. He is so articulate and witty (Jesus, I sound like I am writing a personal ad) that every conversation with him always leaves me impressed. Anyway, tonight I ran into Nik at dinner and it was the first time I had seen him since I found out that he had dated a girl here - he didn't know that his roommate had told me this little gem of information. Apparently they had tried to keep it a secret, but were pretty exclusive for about two months. Not a very long time, but long enough for the girl to count as an "ex."

I asked him if he were sitting for awhile and he offered to sit while I ate and guess who else was willing to sit and wait with us? Oh yes, the EX. Stupid exes. The worst part about her being his ex is that I like her. I had a seminar with her last semester and she is thoughtful, insightful, and interesting. What a fucking bitch.

I digress.

We wound up talking for an hour at dinner and then I asked him to swipe me into my dorm since my card has yet to be replaced. She proceeded to proclaim that SHE would love to swipe me in, but the gallant gentle man he is, Nik was not deterred. We then wound up talking on the bottom steps of my entryway for an hour and a half. She looked bored, but was not about to give up without a fight. She tried yawning. She tried saying that sitting on the steps was awkward. She tried saying she was cold. Luckily the conversation was interesting enough to defend against her complaining.

The champagne party had started by the time we realized that we should get the night going. I told him I just needed to change into pants (it was warm, I had been wearing a very cute skirt), and he said that he was going to check his email. She looked really annoyed and said she was going back to her dorm. She was pissed. I was not. To cut to the chase, she left, we met back up and headed into the party.

We got drunk off of good beer and cheap champagne and decided we needed to go on an adventure. We were with Eric and Courtney who ran off when we wandered outside for awhile. I called and texted Court who not surprisingly did not return my calls and texts. I called Eric once and he was on the phone screaming at me to come to Lowell. Before we even got into Lowell Nik and I found Eric stumbling out drunker than Mel Gibson at a Bar Mitzvah.

I won't rehash the whole Eric ordeal, but lets just say that there is some background information that might make this part of the story more interesting. If you don't know it, I don't think I am going to take the time to fill you in. Anyway, Eric starts being really drunkenly aggressive. He actually told me that he was going to "beat up" Nik. I don't even know what that means coming from him. He wouldn't listen to anyone, except for me and he kept on hugging me and being weird. Like really, really, weird. It took forever to walk Eric back to his room and by the time we got there I had taken quite a beating. Literally. I had been dragged, bear hugged, squeezed, and just generally put through the ringer. I was just really glad that Nik stayed around to help, he was a trooper.

Once he got back to his room things got even more weird. Eric started stroking my hair and at one point pulled me on top of him in his chair and refused to let me go. Then when I finally got him back into the room where his bed is (no, it's not a bedroom), he stood in the middle of the room, pulled me in for a hug, pushed my hair out of my face and pulled up my chin. At this point I was so weirded out that I almost ran to get Nik out of the bathroom. He had only been out of sight for about two minutes before things had gotten out of hand.

We finally pretty much just pushed Eric into bed, set his phone alarm and his radio clock alarm and left. He was black out, but not comatose. When we left we had to go back to Lowell and find Courtney. We found her. She then proceeded to confess her love for Nik (awkward) and dance with him in a way that definitely did not involve a third party. At one point she actually elbowed me in the face. Sweet.

Nik convinced her to come back to our dorm with us (yes, he lives in my dorm; yes, that's awesome) and once we got her back we were standing in the main foyer. The same main foyer Chuck was chased out of Halloween weekend. So much tension. He had his hand on my waist. He played with my hair. He leaned in. I leaned in.


Once they left it was really awkward standing there, so he walked me to my entryway. We were back to where we started. He started babbling in a very un-Nik like fashion. He was actually not making any sense and talking about vaccums or sky scrappers, or something completely random and incoherent. He wasn't that drunk, but I had no idea what he was talking about. Finally I just kind of put it out there and told him I thought he was cute.

That did not solve the problem and only brought on more uncontrolled banter. Once we both realized that we had been sitting in the hallway for over an hour it became an issue of now or never. I was standing in front of him and his back was pressed up against the railing. Then it was just a quick kiss on the lips. Then a hug. Then an "I like you a lot."

He said "I like you a lot."

One more time: "I like you a lot."

Pretty fucking unambiguous. Then he left.

He helped me put two drunk friends to bed. He put up with being molested all night. He was a perfect gentleman. He kissed me on the lips. With no tongue. Oh my God.

Speaking of "my God," did I mention he was Catholic? Yeah, like the kind of Catholic that goes to Mass every Sunday.

Oh God.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Oh la la.

Italia waited for me after class. This is the second time we've walked back from class together. It's probably the most innocent beginning to a (hopefully) non-platonic relationship (I used that word loosely) that I've had in awhile. Possibly ever. Too bad I had to defile it by picturing him half-naked. Again. It doesn't take a penis to objectify someone.

We don't have class tomorrow. Apparently there is a "holiday" on Saturday. I am guessing it's one of the fake holidays like "Presidents' day" or "Veterans' day" or "Christmas." Tonight there is a celebration in my dorm for its 75th anniversary. This means free champagne. That means I will be drunk. I hope you can figure out where I am going with that train of thought.
I'm really glad we have this little shindig tonight because I am most certainly out of alcohol, which is never a good way to start a weekend.

I have to go mentor (yes, I mentor; no, I am not completely shallow) in an hour. 32 minutes actually (where the hell does time go?). I'm glad I'm going to be doing something constructive and positive with my day. It will make me feel less guilty about anything that happens tonight - I've already done my good deed for the day, thank you very much.

*For the record, a shot of rum has about 96 calories in it anyway, so it's only about a 30-50 calorie difference depending on the beer. If you're not using a diet mixer/chaser you're probably downing more drinking the hard liquor anyway. Just a little FYI in case anyone was wondering or cared.

Comments section

Now anyone can comment. That doesn't mean anyone can "judge," we'll leave that for Jesus.

i tried

To pay attention. It didn't work. My mind is still not on religion. In fact it's pretty much in the gutter right now. It's not my fault though, the boy in front of me is pretty cute. He was the one who walked me home on Halloween night. I bet he looks good without a shirt on. Yes, I am sitting here imagining him without his Italia hoodie and stripped polo. Yes, I am a little turned on.

I mentioned him in a post on Tuesday when I was sitting next to him. After much consideration, I've decided that he gets a name, especially since he Facebook friended me yesterday. We'll call him Italia after his hoodie. And his all around Italian-American-ness. He is the person in the room I would most like to make out with right now. Mostly because I know he must have a great chest. And arms. And I bet he'd be good and forceful. Not violent forceful (I'm not into that, but if you are more power to you. Or less... Jesus, how did I end up on this tangent?), but that kind of "I want you so bad, I can't control myself" kind of forceful.

. . .and suddenly I need a cold shower.


So last night I got stoned and saw my high school Latin teacher. I'm sorry, I'm still not over it, I needed to recap it for myself.
I also got that very interesting message from Chuck, which made me smile.

The sexy 28 year old Chilean man didn't come into the coffee shop today. This is the first Thursday he hasn't come by in about a month. He usually comes on Thursdays and Fridays and we chat. The shop is closed tomorrow, so I guess we'll have to wait until next week. I've promised him some hot chocolate via a facebook message (I told you I was a stalker). I was surprised and quite delighted when he actually messaged me back and friended me. If you want to know the extent of my stalking skillz, I'll tell you this much: I knew the first three letters of his name and that he was a Graduate student. It turns out that he's actually working on his third degree and first graduated grad school in '05. I thought he was 23 or 24, but no, he's 28 years old... going on 29. Maybe I shouldn't have let him see my facebook profile, which clearly annouces that I am NINETEEN. Not illegal, but definitely not socially Kosher. Whatever, I'd still like to see where it goes. I'll just put it out there - I totally want to make out with him.

I'm sitting in Sociology class and everyone is asking asinine questions and trying to look smart. I kind of what to punch them all in the face. Unfortunately, that isn't socially Kosher either. It's not that I think I am smarter than everyone in the class, I just can't stand when people feign interest and pull questions out of their ass to try and impress a professor who doesn't even know their name. If you have something smart to say, go ahead, say it but if you don't, fuck you, shut the hell up. I used an excessive amount of commas in that last sentence, but I tend to over punctuate when I'm upset. Apparently there is a book we were supposed to read for class. Apparently.

I have adamently refused to get a new ID card to replace the one I lost last Saturday. It will be my third card this semester and is going to cost $40, which is absolutely ridiculous. Then again, so is standing in the rain for ten minutes waiting for someone to let me into my dorm. If I can hold out until February then I'll save twenty dollars in exchange for my dignity. It's my own fault, I really need to stop losing things.

Jesus Christos, we're talking about religion. I wish I could be religious. I used to be Catholic and I guess I still am. Sort of. I don't go to Church, I dropped out of CCD before my Confirmation, and the last time I confessed I was still being walked home from school. But I'm a virgin, so HA, Jesus still loves me! I feel kind of dirty writing about making out with a guy ten years older than me while being asked to considered how I envision God and how that affects my sociological view of religion.

Deep... A little too deep if you ask me.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

and i quote... again

"your tongue was quite fun"

What a facebook message to receive. That was how Chuck ended a message to me. I'm flattered. And stoned.

I went to a concert with Courtney tonight. I saw two bands and had to leave before the third one. It was far too overwhelming in that club from me. Not only was I surrounded by people who were constantly trampling on my person space boundaries, but I also so my high school Latin teacher. Yes, you read that right, my high school Latin teacher. I used to have the biggest crush on this man, who is incidently an alum of my college, and just completely fawn over him. Once he called me a "Latiness" and I swear I almost passed out. Now tonight, I see him drinking a beer in a dingy basement club. Not only was I completely disillusioned, but since I was stoned out of my mind, I couldn't even comprehend what was happening. I think I scared him when I tried to act normal. Social interaction was not coming easily to me.

Anyway, I am about to respond to that message, which was a lot longer than the excerpt that I posted. There's a poem and it looks good, so I am about to have a nice long read. And then sleep. Oh yeah, and eat that Portobello and Goat Cheese sandwich on a soft roll from Au Bon Pain. And that bag of bugels. And the bag of pretzels.

and i quote

"Who the hell doesn't like oral?"

My friend asked me this question after she read an earlier post. Frankly, I can't answer that question. Apparently there are some girls out there who don't like it, but to each her own. I think it's probably mostly a comfort thing. A lot of girls are really weirded out by their vaginas and the last thing they want is some guys face getting up close and personal with it. Honestly, most guys after the age of 17 know what they're getting into, and I can't imagine that it's anymore trying to put your mouth on a vagina than on a penis.

Regardless, from what I've gathered from one friend is that there is just a general insecurity about it. I think it's in the same vein that girls don't (or say that they don't) masturbate. On the whole it's just less accepted and less acknowledged, even though no one really thinks it's weird. Maybe I should thank my eighth grade sex education teacher for asserting: "Why shouldn't everyone do it? Doesn't matter what you've got, it feels good." After a semester of that being reinforced on my impressionable young mind, it never seemed like such a huge deal. Ms. Allen also hinted to us that if a guy or girl is afraid of the opposite sex's genitalia, they're probably gay.


Right now I am lying in bed listening to the sounds of a rainy afternoon. Wet tires rolling down JFK street. Drizzle hitting my window. The tidal wave of cars that drive too close to the curb. I have absolutely no motivation to do anything I should be doing. I have a section at 2:00 o'clock this afternoon in a building half-way across campus. The ten minute walk from my bed to section is enough of a deterrent on most days, but that coupled with the rain pretty much means I will be lying in bed all afternoon. I went to my 11 o'clock class, skipped my 10 and 12 o'clock lectures, and now I am planning on skipping my section too. Oh, and tutoring this afternoon is out of the question. What am I doing with all of these extra hours? Working on the five-page paper I have due tomorrow in my sociology class? Catching up on all of the Latin I've been ignoring for the last week? Read the book we're discussing in my sociology section tomorrow? No, no, and no. I am lying in bed, blogging.

This blog is clearly going to become a guilty pleasure, one that I will have to add to my ever growing list. Celebrity gossip magazines (and blogs of course), VH1 specials, designer jeans, and Facebook round out my top five favorite guilty pleasures.

I woke up this morning with no new text messages or missed calls, in case you were wondering. Courtney said it best when she said: "it doesn't matter what he might have texted back, good, bad or whatever, what matters is that there was no response." She then went on to remind me that sending the lyrics to the Oscar Mayer Wiener song was kind of weird, and maybe he just didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say. Whatever. I'm pretty much over it, my ego has taken bigger blows before.

Besides, I spent lunch time basking in the sight of Lefty, the current "I don't just want to make out with him" like of my life. Lefty is the one I had the intense conversation with the Friday of Halloween weekend. I decided that "Lefty" was an appropriate name for him since it's his left-handed bowl that is currently sitting in my desk. We didn't talk, but I don't really care, since I know that I could have if I had really wanted to. I spilt a glass of milk and had to clean it up and a little part of me was kind of hoping he would come over and help, afterall he was only about ten feet away sitting directly in front of me and I obviously could have used some help mopping it up. High hopes. Chivalry really is dead. Then again, Court didn't help me either and she was sitting next to me. In my fantasy world guys jump to the rescue of a girl (me, specifically) no matter how big or small the problem, but I think that holds true for most girls to some extent. Who doesn't want a dashing young gent to rush over and help her clean up spilled [...spillt?] milk? Fuck femininism, bring me a knight in shinning armor. And an Us Weekly, of course.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

oh fudge it

I am going to bed.

The "oh, i wish i were an oscar mayer wiener, that is what i truly wish to be" text message was clearly not taken as I had intended. The song was stuck in my head, I thought it would be funny. Apparently, not.

Instead of obsessing over the 43 minutes that have passed since I sent it at 11:07, and wondering why on earth it doesn't even deserve a response like "Um, I have to go to bed, you're weird, let's never talk again." Instead nothing. Except hurt pride. and TV sounded so good tonight.

I guess the episodes of Law & Order that I downloaded on iTunes will have to do one more night. Even if I've already seen them all. Twice.

For the sake of the pride that I can't seem to shut up about, I probably shouldn't admit that I turned the ringer on my phone up. Just in case. I doubt I would even pick up at this point or respond to a message. I just want the satisfaction of knowing that I got to end the conversation.


have you ever sent a text message that you IMMEDIATELY regretted? A Facebook message?

Yeah, I thought so. This is the immediate regret part.

it's raining

and I would much rather be watching television.

I guess I am disappointed. I wanted to watch TV and curl up. Maybe it's selfish disappointment, but it's still disappointment.

Okay, I guess I am a little curious as to why he hasn't called. That part is harder to admit. Don't get your panties in a twist, it's not attachment, it's really just boredom and pride. Okay, maybe a little more pride than boredom.

Dammit. Stupid pride.

This will get old

But for now, it's still exciting. Three posts in one day is kind of sick, especially when I am trying to work on a paper. And do my Latin (Yeah, I know, Latin is dead, blah, blah, blah... fuck you). And clean my room. Instead I am sitting on blogger doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn't be doing. I guess it's better than Facebook.

I just can't decide whether or not I care if he calls. I don't think I do for any reason other than my room is cold, I don't have a television, and I am horny. His room is warm, he has not only a TV, but about a million DVDs and cable to boot, and he is good at what his does with his hands. And mouth. Goddammit.

It's true what they say, you can't miss what you never had, but I think sex might be the big exception. I feel like I'm missing something whenever I think about the fact that I'm not having any. I think it's probably because I don't have any religious qualms about it, or even really clear moral grounds on the matter. I just have dated anyone long enough to validate having sex with him. I have had friends who just had sex to get it over with, with varying responses. I think the only thing that I really worry about is the attachment issues. I mean, after holding onto something for almost twenty-years, you're bound to miss it when it's gone, right? I guess I just don't want to look back and regret it. You always remember your firsts, don't you? I mean, your first bike, your first kiss (shudder, I kind of wish I didn't), your first crush (my older brother's friend Lucas, he was in sixth grade and I was in second when I first fell in love. I used to have to hang out after school and wait for my brother to walk me home and I would just stare at his golden floppy hair. He was such a badass too, he dislocated his shoulder playing structure tag one day, and was back on the playground less than a week later. Sigh. He was pretty much a rockstar in my 8 year-old eyes... what was I talking about?).

Not to defile the moment, but I still remember my first blow job. It was in a sixty-nine. I was sixteen (okay, fifteen). I know some people do the sex thing first and will only give head to someone they really love, but lets be real for a minute: oral sex does not knock you up. I mean, I'm not advocating going out and giving head to everyone you meet - especially as a manner of maintaining your virginity. Not at all, but my first time (and just about all subsequent times) a guy went down on me first, and so it didn't seem like such a big deal. Actually, the first guy I ever gave head to had gone down on me more than once, and it was absolutely fantastic. I didn't feel OBLIGATED to do it, but it seemed like a fair gesture. I've never thought the act itself was so terrible - though on occasion I get a little bored and start thinking about a new pair of shoes I want to buy - which is why I pretty much prescribe to the "give and you will receive" tactic. If you go down on me, I'll go down on you. Unless I am tired, in which case I will probably just go to sleep. That may sound a little unfair, but how often do guys get a blow job and the girl gets the shaft both literally and figuratively (ha, I am so witty)? I guess the end of this thought is: If he goes, I'll (usually) go and never see it as a huge deal. It's too impersonal to get attached over, and as long as I leave satisfied, I don't really mind.

I digress... back to the "my first" experience. I liked the guy, Mike, a lot actually, but I was more physically attracted to him than anything else. He was about three years older and had way more sexual experience than I will ever have in my life - more than anyone not working in the porn industry will ever have in their life - and I let him take the lead while we were hooking up, probably more than I should have. I don't regret it and even at the time I didn't really think that it meant something "special." The hook up itself didn't really have as much impact as I thought it would, other than the fact that it caused another "first" (there were ice cubs involved... this is definitely another post). I liked him before and I liked him after. Maybe I've just never been dillusional, but I didn't mistake it for love or even like. We still talked for years after that until he became kind of a bum, and from what I hear, got ugly. I swear he used to be hot. Think Dave Grohl from the Foo Fighers. Except hot. I realized after I typed "Dave Grohl" that there are probably a lot of people who wouldn't exactly call him "sexy," "hot" or even "remotely attractive," but Mike was hot.

Now, four or five years later I am wondering about the last of the great "firsts." This had better be worth the wait - and I mean roses, champagne, and magical rainbows - otherwise it'll just be kind of disappointing. Once again, I'm not in any rush, but it would just be a bummer to find out that there was nothing really that spectactular or special about it. Think of all the wasted opportunity.

I love things

Especially my iPod. Today at work I thought it broke. I almost cried. Almost. It started working right before I left, which made my already good day absolutely amazing.

Courtney used my roommate Val's tweezers to clear her Sobe last night. I was completely unaware that she had used them until this afternoon while I was in class talking to Val over iChat. She was pretty pissed that her room smelled like smoke in the first place, but once she saw the resin on her tweezers, the vein in her forehead really started to throb. I hope she's not pissed at me, though I'm not optimistic because her door is currently shut. I hope she doesn't retaliate by using my scissors to trim her pubes or something. That would not be nice.

Monday night escapades

Well last night I had planned on turning in early, which I plan on doing just about every night. Around six, Court IMed me asking me to get stoned and see Borat with her - how could I say no to that? I tried being productive before we left, but instead of doing work all I did was laundry. Even procrastination can breed some form of productivity.

Anyway, four loads of laundry later we were off to the movies. Okay, that's a lie. We were smoking in my room. Her Sobe wasn't working, so we had to resort to using a bowl that found its way into my hands after a little police raid scare. It was a lefty bowl, which was weird, I had never used one before and it was rather annoying since I am most definitely right handed. Two bowls later we actually were leaving. It had been awhile since either of us had smoked out of a bowl and we forgot about the delayed reaction. We started walking out of the door before we realized, "Shit. We're kind of stoned." Anyway, we practically ran to the movie because of an intense bout with paranoia. "Do you think they'll sell out? Oh God, what if it's over?"

Not only did we get there on time, we had to wait in a line with like five people that took forever. We saw this "older" woman if you will with her 20-30 something boyfriend and that my dear friends, was a trip and a half. "It's the fucking odd couple" to quote Courtney. I thought the guy at the ticket booth was this guy, Eric, who used to date my friend Hannah. Once again paranoia struck and I acted like maybe the sketchiest person ever. I wouldn't look the guy in the eye and kept asking Court to buy my ticket, and I wouldn't let her say my name. I mean you never know, you don't want to get into one of those messy Hi/Bye situations with someone you know, but don't really want to talk to. The movie itself was amazing. Amazing in the sense that I couldn't tell what was real and what was staged and that itself was crazy enough for me, let alone what was actually going on. I strongly suggest you check out Borat, especially if you plan on seeing an "enhanced" screening.

Later I went over to Madge's room. We watched The Office and then hooked up for a few hours. Yes, hours. Stupid virginity. I don't know why I am so attracted to him, but I am. He's shallow in the way that I love, and appreciates a Marc Jacobs jacket. He's from L.A., go figure. Regardless, I have yet to tell him that I'm a virgin. That's usually one of the first things I tell a guy - I love the disappointment. In this case, I'm kind of hesitant. I know, I know, "if he doesn't respect your decision..." yeah, yeah, save it for the sex-ed lecture. It has nothing to do with him pressuring so much as me just wanting to have sex, with him in particular. Seeing as I've only met him twice, clearly I'm not just dropping trow (spelling?), but God I wish I was easy. Based on what he can do with his other extremities, I have a feeling he'd probably be pretty good. NOT FAIR. Why can't I be one of the slutty girls? Why couldn't I just have a penis so that I would jump at the chance to have sex with anyone, let alone someone I'm actually attracted to.

I told Katrina today, and she approved to some extent. Her first words were, "he's bad news," but she explained that she was basing that on an impression from her sophomore year (they're bother seniors), and that in retrospect, he was actually better than most of the douchebags he apparently hangs out with. I know he's an asshole. That's what I like. Strangely enough, he's also kind of sweet. He likes me sleeping over. He's kind of a cuddler - which I am not, but for some reason don't mind as much in this case. In the morning, I look like shit, but he still is kind of cute about it. I don't think I ever let Bob (name changed to protect the innocent), who I was hooking up with for about three months, see me without makeup. I also never slept over. Looking back, Bob was kind of a dick. But in a really dorky way. Oh well, we stopped talking after I hooked up with a friend of his while we were both in Puerto Rico. Maybe I was a little bit of a bitch, too.

Alright, maybe, just maybe I should pay attention in class. There's only twenty-five minutes left. Twenty-four. I'm sitting next to a guy who is pretty cute. He walked me home on Halloween night when I was drunk and Court and Kristen had left me in Unique Pizza. He's sweet. Maybe I'll make out with him.