Archive | August 2016

The Same, Only Different

I become genuinely heart broken and distraught when I get rejected by a guy I’ve slept with, even if it was just once. I have the tendency to believe that every man I sleep with is the one for me. I become infatuated and they consume my thoughts. On my long runs I’ll envision our lives together, and then, inevitable they reject me. It comes at all different points, sometimes early on, sometimes 6 years after they have taken advantage of me, but it does always come. And then I spiral into a tornado of self loathing and bewilderment.
I just can’t ever understand how it could be that these men can just not care. It seems nearly impossible to me, someone who does everything full force, that they can just move on to the next one. I have spent countless hours, days, weeks, yes even years wondering how it could be possible that I did not matter. I can’t seem to grasp that I made no real impression on their lives, that they could so easy just toss me aside. What was it that made them even drawn to me in the first place, if I am clearly so forgettable? 
After a fair amount of inner reflection and false hope,that these men who are rejecting me will have a change of heart, I move on to being angery, well angery for me. In my head I get all worked up and despise the fact that I’m just another notch on their bed post, another girl they “took down” or just another meaningless fuck. When I finally come to terms with the reality, I except how much it hurts and then I move on.
I’ve spent so much time getting worked up about the same scenario, over and over again, never once realizing that I too just get over it. It may take me a little bit longer, but I just stop caring. I have no problem falling just as hard for the next gorgeous guy that happens to spend a night in my bed. From there the cycle repeats itself, clearly indicating that I must have not been that into the last guy if my feelings are so easily swayed to the next one. So although it may look different, it is in fact the same thing. Each guy becomes a tick mark in the form of a blog post, if they are even memorable enough for that, and then nothing more than a memory, sometimes a fond one, other times just a memory. At the time though, they were the most important person in my life, and when it is over they weren’t. Although I like to think I’m above the assholes I sleep with, I’m actually just the same, only different.


Have to Laugh

I have to laugh, there is really no other way. At the time I do cry, sometimes uncontrollably so, or it may just be a slow silent weep. But when it is over, and I’ve got some distance from whatever it was that made me cry I typically laugh. I’m not sure if it comes with my mentality to never keep a grudge but I tend to make a joke of it all, which may be way I keep getting myself into such absurd and hurtful situations. Maybe if I viewed the situations with the sadness and disgust they deserved I would not have some many things to laugh about now.
I lost my virginity when I was 16, in my driver’s ed teachers house, in his kids play room, with no door, next to Barbie’s mansion. Luckily it was not to my driver’s ed teacher, but instead to an asshole whom I had been hooking up with for a while. He was 22 and had already graduated from Culinary Arts school. For some reason he felt that it was appropriate to come back home and hang out with his younger sister’s friends. He could buy beer, so clearly none of us objected. 
Looking back in makes perfect sense to me now why I liked him so much, he was so fucked up. I’m not sure what his damage was, because at that age I had not yet deemed myself an insightful non-licensed therapist. Thus I had not delved into what made him the way he was, but needless to say, if you are 22 and sleeping with a 16 year old there has got to be some sort of disconnect in your head. But again he could buy us beer, so I continued to lust after him. 
One night, the beer he did buy us lead to a very drunken night out at the lake. There were only a few of us there that night so I had a better chance of getting his attention. The other girl there was his cousin, so my changes were great. At some point I was in his tent, and I experienced my first hook-up, beyond making out. At the time I was pretty numb from all the booze, but the following day I was both emotionally and physically in pain. I had bruises all over my body and my vagina was sore. I went to work and tried not to think about it. Several weeks later, with many beers taken in the same thing happened, this because the pattern for over four months. 
We developed my first one-sided relationship. Having never had a boyfriend I had no reference point. I saw my other friends having boyfriends, but also having drunken hook-ups, so I didn’t think my situation was that unique. Eventually we fell into the routine of hooking up at parties then not speaking any other time. The night after I gave him a blow job, my first one, I told my friends that the next time we hooked up I would most likely end up having sex with him. At this point it had become a very pathetic and desperate situation that all of my friends could see. They told me I should stop hooking up with him in the event that I did end up wasting my virginity on him. I was too far in by that point, I was infatuated and wanted nothing more than to make us connected, and I believed sex was the only way to do it.
Which brings me to a night filled with booze, so much booze, weed and absinth. My fake and grossly pretentious friends wanted to have a wine and cheese party where they played trivial pursuit and discussed stuck up shit. What really happened was that a large shit show happened at my driver’s ed teachers house, where my friend was house sitting. Absinth is some crazy stuff that leads to insanity when consumed in large volumes. There were people climbing on the rooftop, walking around in nothing buy a quilt, and overall just acting insane. I only had one object that night however, and that was to create a relationship where one had not previously existed. 
Even at the time I recognized the absurdity of the situation, we had one sleeping bag between the two of us and all that was separating us from the rest of the house was a few stands of beads. We had to move Ken’s convertible out of the way before we were able to have the most underwhelming experience of my life. The actual act lasts less than half the time of the first verse of Jeff Buckly’s Hallelujah. I clearly remember thinking to myself…that’s it? After the very quick act I got up the never to finally put it out there, “so does this mean we can hang out now?” After a long silence he replied, “Yea we’ll go hiking or something.”
We never went hiking, we never even had sex again. Things progressively got worse until I was able to go away to college. I wasted some much time trying to make him want me. Endless drunken nights waiting for him to show up at a party and then being heart broken when he would leave me half naked in a field somewhere.
Looking back I laugh, not necessarily about how he treated me or how painful it all was, but I laugh about how I lost my virginity and often tell the story to friends as a source of entertainment. I have always convinced myself that if make light out of my life, especially the really dark parts that I will not be ruined by them. But perhaps if I ever treated them with the severity they deserved I would not find myself in these “laughable” situation so often.

Fast Mover

Life can be so funny sometimes. How is it possible that there are times where it seems like time may actually be moving backwards. And then there are other times when you see a cute guy one week, and then within a week his dick is in your mouth. It seems slightly exhilarated and yet with the current exposure to online dating it is becoming the norm. 
I have been online dating on and off for over three years now, and have had a very wide array of outcomes. A large portion of them where just boring, or fine but with no interest to pursue anything. Others were really bazaar, like call you up in the middle of the night to come pick them up in the middle of the woods because they “can’t go back to jail!”, type of bazaar. Some I fell hard for and was rejected promptly, others dragged out and the rejection came after falling even harder. Some led to a long term dating situation and some where just an awesome fling for a night or a weekend. 
Amongst all of my online date experiences the theme remained the same, meeting someone who, previously you had no knowledge of their existence, and then forming some type of relationship with them, within a few hours. I figured that this was just the way that life was now, and that I was simple following the norm of what I had been offered. It had been so long since I met a guy the old fashion way, seeing them, exchanging words and then progressing to a date. I honestly thought that it wasn’t actually a possibility for me anymore, not at my age. I came to terms with the fact that if I wanted to date I would have to be online. 
Last week I had a rare occurrence and saw a cute guy at a street fair, and I actually made a feeble attempt to flirt with him. Through this exchange I learn that he would be back the next week to work the same event. So the following week I took care to try and look cute…when not gross at least. My friends and I showed up again and after showing my true colors and not saying a word to said guy, my friend decided to give him my number, after I had left. I didn’t think much of it, but then he called that same night. Yes called, not just texted! 
As we spoke on the phone I thought to myself that finally I would get a chance to experience the old school dating experience. He called, we spoke, he invited me out! I was on cloud nine, he had even invited me out for that same night. I did little to prep for the date, thinking it was just a quick drink. I was relieved that I was actually going to meet a guy and I already knew what he looked like. I envisioned us chatting, drinking a beer or two and making plans to meet again, if all went well. Instead by the end of the night I had his dick in my mouth, realizing that it’s not online dating that makes me a fast mover, I’m actually just a bit of a slut.