The high school ex and I have the weirdest dynamic imaginable....

Dated in that half assed adolescent way for the first two years of high school. In retrospect, this was the worst time to have a boyfriend, because I didn't have a sex drive at 14/15. I thought I did, but damn, I had no idea. Broke up mostly because we were tired of each other.

Hooked up a bit just for fun for about a month senior year. (I was already all about the no-strings-play when I was 17. I thought I was so enlightened)

Right before I was about to leave for college, he suggested we have sex just because neither of us wanted to go to college as virgins. We meet up, for this purpose, as awkwardly as you would imagine. So awkward that nothing really happens. Just ice cream. We're cool like that.

We periodically talk over AIM, not frequently but always for at least an hour, about our respective sex lives mostly, sometimes getting really flirty (sometimes drunk).

Many times we've made plans to meet up while we were both home and hook up. Every time, he backs the fuck out, usuallly citing something to do with his mom that he can't get out of. By now I've kind of figured out that the boy is all talk, so I tend to agree to whatever because I know nothing will ever materialize and I don't want to have to say no to him. And I think he hasn't had sex in like, over a year.

Earlier this week- "Bad news- I think I'm going to have to go to this dinner thing with my mom Saturday night." Well of course you do, sweetheart. You run along then.

And then later- "Looks like I can get out of dinner on Saturday. But I don't think we can do anything...I kind of injured myself." Only you, dude. Only you.
"How?!?" wait. no.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yeah I guess I don't"
"Angry mastrubation" Fucking what the hell is that?? I said I didn't want to know!! And seriously....what? How.... I mean, I obviously don't know much about it, but what? I want to know more, but at the same time I really really don't. "Yeah you know how I just got circumsiced this summer? I'm not totally used to it, and I cut myself."

We are now so far past the realm of too much information.
I mean, I was pretty much counting on him backing out at some point. We aren't really trying to hook up. We always play this little game of Chicken and I always win. But wow.

Dude, you will do anything not to have sex with me!

ma vie en rose

I've effectively quit smoking, but I still need it for social networking. It just feels alluring even though I've seen pictures and oh god it's awful. I like to have the excuse to go out on the stoop with a select group out of the party upstairs, have better conversations, get some undivided attention... Or maybe I just love working that ratio. I know smoking isn't sexy but when there are like, 6 guys out on the stoop, and me....come on you can't blame me. I fucking love boys. And I like when they lean in and light my cigarette so our faces are so close we'd be kissing if it weren't for the barrier of a flame midway between our lips. Prolonging eye contact durring the lighting, wrapping my lips around the end and taking the first drag, smiling a bit... "thanks" I can't be faulted for this behavior but it feels so ridiculously brazen. ( So french.)

Two guys I know would not stop sneakily kissing me when I wasn't expecting it, grabbing my ass and talking about Eiffel Towering me. Sketchy as hell. It might have been the most fun I've had in months. I feigned shock at the suggestion, but shit, that would be fun. When they left around 1, they seemed to think I was coming with them.... They were serious?? Damn, I didn't know people actually did that. I thought I was the only one that ridiculous. That's on my list, y'all. No way were we drunk enough for an Eiffel Tower situation, but maybe that would have been a good thing. I think I'd like to remember that clearly.

Instead, I went home alone and thought about it.

Reason #169 that I Love My Life

"You got your parents to pay for your booty call?? Nice!"

DvF

"On the hanger the $200 garment had no shape. But it had suddenly given one to me. The splurge was occasioned by a promotion to correspondent. It was a decided step up from the secretarial pinstripe suit with pleated pants (the horror) that I'd bought right out of college. It was also a couple sizes down, thanks to my punishing new exercise regime. An updated version of the frock Ms. von Furstenberg first introduced to wild national acclaime in 1974, the wrap was certainly slinky: It could, in theory, unfurl and tumble immediately to the floor with a single purposeful tug of the "self-belt". But it was sexy in a totally autonomous, empowering way. No second party was needed to help button or zip up. I could rewrap smartly in a flash and and leave wherever I was in seconds, like Wonder Woman sans bustier and tiara."
-Elle October 2006

Oh, if only I could find a DVF wrap dress for only $200. I check Bluefly religiously. My 6 year old J Crew version does amazing things though. Not well-made, the fabric is mediocre, seams are falling out (J Crew was different 6 years ago. I think this cost like, $75 or something; now they don't have dresses under $200 either)

I didn't know how to dress myself at 15- everything I wore was ill-fitting and unflattering and usully too revealing and in a color that was all wrong, usually chosen based on its merits on the hanger or on someone else, not on me. It's by pure chance that I picked up the ideal shape for me (for me now- at 15 I probably looked more lumpy, less lithe.) and that I chose a color that back then I had never worn before that I now know always looks stunning on me.

At that time, I lusted after the clothes that would fit the kind of person I wanted to be, and not what I needed to wear to school. Obviously this lead to a lot of mistakes, like too-short skirts and very low waistbands and tacky little thongs and even a shiny silver velour tube top (cringe!). My mom was buying me duplicates of her clothes, and this was before she developed the taste I now admire her for. This was the Talbots era. Tube tops and thongs and bare (pudgey) midrifs were reactionary. I've forgiven myself and so has she.

Which makes it even more remarkable that the dress I wanted back then not because it suited me but because I aspired to become someone who would be suited by that dress, is now undeniably the most beautiful, flattering, confidance boosting thing in my closet. I guess something went right.

How can you not love the one piece of clothing that's at once the most comfortable and the sexiest? That always fits beautifully, plus or minus 20 pounds? That looks tastefully knee length and family-friendly upon entry but happily falls open up-to-there under tables in restaurants and in the passenger seat of a car? That comes undone with a pull of a string and pours off your shoulders down your back into a little silk pool on the floor around your feet?

"Your girlfriends, they can't understand..."

It's the Sex and the City where they discuss how one "defines" one's "relationships". Blech. I used to think that the correlations between the show and my life were like, whoa, soo uncanny and strange! but this show is so base and so unoriginal that it applies to everyone all the time.

It's just that....I'm going to get grilled when I go home about my justification for my Boy Visit immediately following. (I wonder if I can just say "I have to retrieve my favorite underwear!" No?) I refuse to stammer "uhh....I don't know....we're like ... whatever...." and get the MomBitchFace. That's almost as scathing as the concerned "ohhh....huh" over the phone from well-meaning friends. That's why I don't say more than I need to, and why no one knew about my random expedition 2 weeks ago ;-)

It would not occur to me to me to wonder what's going on until I'm talking to someone about it. Girl friends give terrible advice. My mom is of course very smart but the disconnect is... insurmountable.

On Sex and the City, the debate is mostly, "he does that? that means he's your boyfriend. oh but that other thing... that means no." Seriously? WTF? Considering that these women are supposed to be so autonamous and self-actuallized, they are really bad at calling the shots or considering, even identifying, what they want. (must keep in mind these are cautionary tales, meant to be sympathetic, at best. Not role models)

The self-obsessed creature I am, I can't help but compare- instead I scrutinize my own behavior. Why did I do, say, think that thing? What does that say about me? Can we identify a pattern? (Bipolar much?) I wonder what I'm subconsciously thinking? I'm my own neurotic girlfriend! Rawk on!

Conclusions regarding myself relative to fictional SATC girls-
a) These women are tragic fucking losers and don't think about what they want, ever, and that is why they are always unhappy, whereas my life is awesome. (fuck yeah, bitches!)
b) Because they are like, 30+, they already know exactly what they want, and it never changes anymore (or...they no longer have a choice? clocks of every kind are ticking! hurry before you're too old to be relevant and HBO gets a better show for your time slot! Desperate Houswives is a lot less depressing than watchig Kim Catrell fuck a 20 year old)
c) Even Carrie is not as self absorbed as me. No one in the world is as self absorbed as me (ding!)
d) This show is fictional and, in fact, very badly written
e) All of the above.

New blog format- every entry must contain the phrase "I couldn't help but wonder...(lameassquestion)....?" Seriously, I'm borderline illiterate and I'm a better writer than the famous Ms Bradshaw.

ETA: following ep is the one where CarrieFace is like, "I was having sex trying to turn it into a relationship and Samantha wasn't having sex so that she would have a relationship. I couldn't help but wonder..."(told you it was coming!) "...which had a better chance of survival?"

Even when I saw the ep 4 years ago, I was confused about why it didn't work out with the Best-Sex-Ever guy, and I swear it's not cause I was/am naive. The rationalization was....wait for it...he was way too ADD. Wtf? Seriously they pulled that out of their ass and I'm expected to buy it? How did he focus long enough to give BitchFaceCarrie the best orgasm of her life? Plot hole! Cop-out! At this moment I'm watching Carrie get turned off by his manic behavior and I just think he's fun and hot, and the this-shit-is-falling-apart record-scratching soundtrack is not enough to convince me this is a real problem. Carrie, you're a bitch. Ew, and so is Charlotte. These poor men. I don't think any of them actually like sex. They all secretly hate guys, except Samantha, so why is she the one with the girl-on-girl plotline?

I love to hate this show.

Game

I managed to convince myself to go out and drink Friday night. Yeah, I had to think about it for a while. I wasn't so psyched about getting wasted. What's happened to me?

I had just dyed my hair, which gives you that kinda anonomous feeling (even though it's totally delusional) It just starts to seem like I could be someone else. This guy showed up that I sort of knew... had met him a few times before and I remembered his name this time! For some reason I decided to work it as hard as I could. He seemed a little out of place. I started chatting him up, sat down on the arm of his chair when there was no seat for me, touched his arm when I talked to him, flipped my freakishly dark hair around and batted long eyelashes. (I did that with everyone, though. He's just the only one who doesn't know better.) I asked him to teach me how to play quarters (one of the few things that I learned from my mom about guys- that they like to explain stuff to you. read: stop acting like a know-it-all-bitch. Also, that guys who are balding are "higher in testosterone and eager to please" I remember her saying this when I was like, 6. Seriously.) I leaned in while he explained shit, and let my hand brush his knee from time to time, without listening to a thing he was saying. I actually did pretty well. (sidenote- is there anything more fun than being the only girl, drinking around a table of 8 good looking boys? I couldn't stop grinning. And most of them are off-limits, hooking-up-wise)

On a group cigarette break, he asked me to stay outside after everyone went in to smoke another one. .....oh really? As I leaned in to offer him a cig he started kissing me. Have you ever been simultaneously surprised but not surprised at all? Like, whats going on....oh wait.... no.... of course!

"When I walked in tonight I was so happy you were here." Guys gotta watch what the hell they say to me. It's just too easy; some shit like that and my panties hit the floor. But since I was feeling a lot more enamoured with myself than with him, I decided to be an arrogant little bitch and I asked him why. C'mon, I wanted more. "Because I like you! You seem really cool"

"I hate to be the one to tell you dude, but I am so lame." I could have gone on but making out on the picnic tale sounded like more fun.

He wanted to leave with me (I should stop mentioning that I have a single every 5 minutes; it sends a mixed message) but I wanted to go back inside and play more. I continued having mad game for a while, not talking to him quite as much but still glancing from across the room or brushing past him through a crowd of people, letting him pull me into a dark little hallway, but then sliding away again after a minute or two against the wall... Too bad I don't like him.

I wonder if I could translate this sort of skill to a situation where I could make something of it.