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As far as my love life I’m facing a bit of conundrum.  Brief history: My most serious relationship ended because I fell in love with someone who ended up being capable of horrible things I never could’ve forseen. In a word, he was abusive. I wanted to be with him forever, but I could never really get over the final physical assault. I mean, I tried to forgive him and stay with him, but the infatuation and intense lust was too much. How could the person I had been sooo intimate with harm me in that way? To risk being in the same situation- thinking he was going to break my jaw, hitting him as hard as I could and yelling for help in a public place- was something I am too smart for a second time.

  My family had been so supportive of the very first interracial relationship in the history of my family- which I’m all for- I’m obsessed with diversity- yet for things to have happened that I didn’t feel I could tell my mom or my brothers meant that it was logically wrong, no matter how my heart felt.  I  had to spend a lot of time convincing myself that he was wrong for me even though it felt so right and now have such an icy interior when it comes to love that I’ve put myself in a position where I refuse to be hurt in such a way ever again.  For the next two years I had many suitors, some short intense, even international affairs. Now I’m just tired. I feel that I’m supposed to be alone for a while, independent, free from the complications that love and companionship can bring. 

If there’s anything I’ve learned from my parents divorce, its that there are worse things than being alone. So while this is many peoples greatest fear, I’m not afraid of being alone. I like myself better than most people anyway. Additionally, I’m tired and I don’t feel sexy. I feel like masturbating- all the time, a skill I didn’t master or understand until I was 20 years old- so I have a lot of alone time to make up for, anyway. How much is too much, anyway? Last semester I had a short romance with a boy who was great for me. A gentlemen, well traveled, bilingual, smart, from my town, and we had great sex right off the bat. But I got bored. He liked me too much and it was a huge turnoff for me. Basically I chewed him up and spit him out like a cold hearted bitch. Or perhaps moreso like guys typically do.

 I thought maybe I could have some fun with a boy I have a lot of history with so while the horribly disappointing sex we had at his lakehouse was fun for old time sake and we’ve already done it so it wasn’t another notch on my bedpost, but I wouldn’t call 10 seconds of intercourse sex at all. So I’ve decided to be celibate just to see how it goes. I’ve just been taking care of myself and my friends and have arrived at arguably the greatest position and outlook I’ve ever had. However, since beatlennium I’ve been sleeping over an awful lot at my friend P’s house.  I have a crush on him. I sleep over, and its not complicated by any physical bullshit. Of course, now he really likes me and I like him, too, except I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m programmed to break hearts right now.  Somehow, in making it all about me, I’ve sucked this other person in and now I care how he feels.  I don’t want to feel guilty for letting him take me out on valentines day and giving me flowers. 

I don’t want to feel guilty now that he looks at me in that ‘way’ that if he told me he didn’t like me he’d be obviously lying.  And this is how selfish I am, while I wish he wouldn’t like other girls, if there was another girl who could be more for him, I would hope that I wouldn’t be a cockblock. I don’t want more from him and I can’t stand the thought that he might want more from me because I care and want him to be happy. I realize that its only societal norms- current ones- that make me feel guilty for things not being physical right now. Any other guy in my past who treated me as well as he does would definetly have gotten laid by now. Of course, he wouldn’t have been my type in the past.   Hilariously, he and his roommates have no idea what kind of lush I really am and have been. I’m neither prude nor asexual. I’m an absolute freak on hold.  Its getting to the point where I feel like we have to talk about it, but why? That never goes well. I’ll just babble. Plus is it really my job to bring it up? 

I realized I had a crush on him one time when I was tripping on mushrooms.  I walked the bowl across the room to him- he wasn’t tripping but is one of those people that can totally chill and not be a buzzkill. After I handed him the bowl I just looked around the room trying to trip out from another perspective, creepily hovering by the edge of the couch.  After a moment (I had no sense of time) he handed the bowl back to me. I wasn’t waiting to take it to the next person. I was just standing out of my mind but he normalized my behavior by doing that and I had an epiphany. The number one reason I like him is because he either thinks the crazy things I do are either really cute and endearing or he doesn’t notice.  I feel like he would never judge me, hurt me, make fun of me. Its comforting. Its safe, Its perfect.

Of course there are a lot of things about him that would probably make me insane if we were officially a couple. Despite the fact that I hate labels, he has completely assumed the role of my emotional boyfriend. For instance, I like that he drinks a lot, and has a puppy, and loves food- cause I love those things. I love that he is close with his family cause so am I. I like that he’s stong, and when he does those forearm gripers at 160 pounds of force I can’t help but wonder what it would be like for him to finger me. I like that he’s really manly and brews his own beer. 

I hate that he constantly talks about a) not having money and b) how he’s ‘about’ to get a job.  I don’t like to feel guilty for having the money to do the things that I want or for having a ridiculously good job.  Its not a turn on- at all. Worse than that as of yesterday, he started to shave his beard. Now he has somekind of facial hair that doesn’t have an official name.  He’s mentioned that I don’t know what he looks like without a beard. Actually I do cause I’ve seeen pictures. Problem is, he’s not as good looking.  Because he’s so chubby, the beard gives his face a better shape and it tickles my neck when he’s spooning behind me and goes with his otherwise manly exterior. However, you can’t tell someone they look better with a beard “yeah, um I like you better when half your face is covered”. I don’t know what to do. Yesterday, when I noticed he shaved I just didn’t say anthing. Would he get that hint? Afterall, I put dreads in my hair and that’s not cute for a white girl- at least according to my best guy friend, but he would never tell me what to do with my hair so what right do I have?   Overall, since I don’t want to give anyone a chance right now, the fact that I’m giving him a chance seems gracious of me, right?

I remember writing this poem what feels like forever ago. I wrote it senior year of highschool when I was on spring break in Florida with my best friend.

marlboro reds marlboro reds

the candy of all cigarettes

smoke em slow 

cowboy face

hold it in

smoke trail to trace

marlboro reds marlboro reds

the candy of all cigarettes

strong and thick

foggy haze

taking a timeout

to get through my daze

marlboro reds marlboro reds

the candy of all cigarettes

my hair is reaky

lungs are black

but I always choose reds 

in case its my very last pack

I though I was a fucking badass. I still think I am. In fact, yesterday was my birthday and I can't believe I lived this long. Obviously the indian guy at the quik mart could believe it, though. He guessed my age on the first try when I went to buy visine to go with the birthday present I bought myself. A quad of dankass weed. Anyway, I feel very tired and reclusive today. I blame all the family time last week.

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I haven’t smoked a cigarette in a month, and yes, I want one right now. However, this time is different from the other times I’ve quit because before it was a health issue and now it’s a moral one.  Health wasn’t exactly a good enough motivator. I’ve known for some time now that I’m immortal.  I should’ve died several times due to a series of bad decisions I started making when I turned sixteen, and I really hope I’m done with that, but I haven’t found a cure for blacking out with which I’m satisfied…and properly hydrated.

 I had to quit smoking because I started to feel like I was getting smoked and not the other way around. It became way too much like slavery. Not feeling shackled to the point of smoking before and after every class feels great. I also started to feel uneducated and unattractive which are not goals of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I like almost everything about smoking cigarettes. I like to have one after meals, have an excuse to leave the party for a moment, and I especially like watching something burn for five minutes whenever I want. It’s the pyro in me. I even miss smelling my fingers when I can’t smoke yet and floating into a room on a billowing waft.

 Of course, I don’t miss throwing down that cash when I could be spending it on dank ass weed. I still have a totally abusive relationship with weed that I have no intention of ending. I like to hit it, and it likes to hit me back.

 The weirdest thing happened, too. I can actually smell other people’s cigarettes and cigarette stench. The fact that I never could before must mean that I always stunk, or I was always smoking a cigarette myself. I thought it made me deep and creative and quite frankly, I’m just as tortured without them. 

 I was hoping that after college I’d be a rock star until I died in a fiery career-making catastrophe before I turned thirty. That plan seems to be slipping away. On top of that, my brothers are the two most important things in my life and they both think smoking is disgusting. Joe even said once if he had tits (which I very much do) he definitely wouldn’t smoke. As the oldest, I cannot set that example. Joe wants the three of us to be neighbors when we are old like my Grandpa and his sisters, and even though I’m afraid I’m never going to die, spending those last years with my brothers when we’re all senile and broken sounds really romantic.

Am I crazy, or do older guys love it when you talk down to them.  I swear, if you can flirt with them while teasing them just enough that they know you know you can do better(in other words, younger), they will just jump through hoops to be your new daddio. I mean, that’s how I got my sugar daddy . Anyway this isn’t about him. But I would like to say that I often have to defend my preference for older men to my friends who are simply bashing something before trying it. Older guys have more experience and are therefore typically better in the sack, more attentive, and more appreciative of a young woman's body.  If its feeling beautiful again that your after, I would recommend getting with a black guy. He'll make you feel like a flawless goddess. Of course potential side effects include never being the same again, becoming much more critical of penis size, and severe emotional trauma resulting in irreparable damage. Best of luck.

Anyway, while pimping all over the world I have managed to secure prospects and lovers in several regions of the globe and the continental u.s. One of these is prospects is Jeremy who used to be my California boyfriend but has since moved to Kalamazoo. I don’t like the title as much but its definetly more unique to have a boyfriend in Kalamazoo. I met him at a sales conference in Orlando a few years ago when I was new to my job and he was a big deal, to put it plainly.  We ended up hooking up and finding ourselves naked just minutes before he was supposed to give the final talk of the whole conference.  Basically, anyone who knew that I’d hooked up with him thought I was hot shit. What a scandal. Young female sales rep seduces 100k earner at conference in Disney World. My momma always did say its just as easy to love a rich man as a poor man(and thats a lot of money to the 20yr old I was at the time)  We’ve hung out once since then, but mostly he calls me when he’s soul searching- as I often am - so its not very disruptive. He just got out of a serious relationship -which is all he ever does- and he described his ex as being a non-mormon vegetarian who drank and smoked and was really into the universe. Personally, I like to think that I’m into the universe, but not enough that someone  would describe me that way. 

He just called to see if I was in Chicago, but alas, I’m away at school. Anyway, I told him I’m not really into casual sex anymore, at least not with people I haven’t already screwed. That way I can skip the whole awkward courting and getting aquainted bullshit and get mine and go.  Plus, the only thing I like more than talking about sex when I'm having it is talking about it when I'm not, especially to other sufferers of abstinence. And for the record, I think teaching abstinence is the most appauling, offensive waste of energy ever.  He asked me what I was up to and I said schoolwork and spitting game. He asked if that meant hooking up with people. What a joke. Hooking up with as many people as I spit game at(and its really just about keeping the machine oiled) would not be possible on a twenty four hour clock. I explained that its just a hobby that allows me to keep my options open.  Its very important to teach an old dog new tricks, especially since he'll surely be able to reciprocate and a relationship takes two, afterall. So he made some not-so-smooth comment like “awesome so we can just hook up when I see you”

Me-  well not exactly, I mean, those guys still have to work for it. Jeez. And you’re in a different category, ya know, cause I hooked up with those guys a bunch of times and you only once”

Him: well whats the difference?

Me: your category is bigger and less competitive

And then I think he was freaked out. How I could joke about getting ass with other guys and have him say he was flattered to be in a category at all and that he'd like to move up one is a total mystery. Why do sexually frustrated exchanges insist on being so cheesy and indirect?  So just so he’d stay positively addicted to me I said “we’ll see what we can do, but I don’t believe in labels” I mean, I don’t even know what that means so he’s probably baffled still.  But that is what the older man wants as far as I can tell: a cryptic, opinionated, younger, freak.

So I just wanted to take a moment to describe the total adoration I have for the awkwardness that is my annual exam. In my life, like any girl my age, I have probably been fingered and felt up by a woman twice my age four of five times. Recently, I've started to feel a bit cheap since I can't recall any of their names, and everyone else I've gone that far with has- for better or for worse- made more of an impression.  I think there is something so positively refreshing about such an uncomfortable situation, ya know, like a woman I don't know asking me how often I feel myself up. I guess some girls get off on that, but I didn't figure out how to 'touch myself' until about two years ago, and if its so normal to have a vibrator, then why hasn't anyone ever bought one for me?  I've even been so fortunate as to have an exam in a foreign country and deal with the language barrier. I mean, my French is conversational, but certainly not medically efficient.  

Its a good thing that none of my boyfriends are dating me back, or I would never be able to commit to this many relationships. Luckily, all the fantastic drama is totally one sided and completely in my head so it hasn't been too difficult. However, I cannot possibly concentrate on this campus with Romeo(as we will call him because, well, if I had to drink poison to be with him, I would) walking around single. What a terrible terrible shameful waste of a fine peace of arse! However, this dismall fog is punctuated by beacons of hope . Obviously, I had a four day affair with that person that put him in the ranks of some of the best things I ever 'did', if you will. The fact that we have already had consensual sex several times makes my chances better with him(and hopefully more timely as I'm dying a little everyday), at least compared to someone who has not consented to their penis in my vagina. Not to mention he can go forever- almost to a fault. And while I have only had inside outside earth shattering leg shaking orgasms with two people in my life, the fact that there was a second means that a third might not be so impossible.