naked

I get so irritated with the notion that girls that are into sex , who can't get enough of it, are somehow incapable of relationships or are emotionally distant. However I never made much of a case against it. I was always nice and content and easy to get along with because I refused to show any vulnerability and stayed away from anything that might suggest neediness. This evasiveness is especially bizarre when contrasted with how accesible I was physically. I very consciously used sex to avoid more difficult ways of interacting. I'd say, "I don't want to talk about this anymore, I'm gonna take my clothes off," or the classic-kissing-so-you-don't-have-to-talk move.

I guess using sex as an ice breaker is not fundementally wrong but I never got there. I would think, well I fooled around with that guy way too soon so now he thinks I'm a slut so I guess I can't talk to him again. Eliminating the option, giving up in order to avoid failing.

I have a theory that people really attach to what they think are their problems because it eliminates options and shrinks the available world down to a less overwhelming size. For example, "I'm not smart enough to do that," or, "I could never have kids because I'm too fucked up and I'm not maternal" Having kids sounds terrifying but saying you simply aren't capable is easier to reconcile in your head than making a choice.

Maybe it was easier, or at least less daunting, for me to say, "I can't be in a good relationship, I'm too fucked up and I wouldn't want to subject a decent guy to that, I can only be with other fucked up people and I cheat on them because that's who I am, not because I don't really want to be with them" That limits you to a realtionship that you can only get so much out of, and one where you can still be very guarded because you don't trust the other person and that's ok with you. If the only purpose your relationship has is sex and someone to drink with, it's a lot less likely to fail.

Before, with S, I really worked the angle of cool, sexy girl that doesn't need commitment, like I'd done before, but it didn't stop me from liking him quite a bit. I forgot to take down the Bitch facade so he figured, not unreasonably, that I didn't like him for anything but his dick.

Then he came back, talking to me again. He seemed....earnest, which was new, but I was apprehensive and knew that he was charming enough that my will power or cognitive abilities would not be sufficient to keep me out of trouble, so I just threw every bit of Crazy I had at him, every little thought I'd edited out of our conversations before for being too attached, too needy, too girly, too emotional, too interested... and he didn't seem phased. Suprised but not derailed.

I can tell him things, unpleasant things, things I'm worried or insecure about and it's not just that he's so reassuring and says exactly the right thing, but his affection for me doesn't seem to waver in the slightest, even as I rant about my mom or tell him I failed a test or admit to eating the entire container of cheese. Somehow it's all ok even when I'm showing him all of me

And I'm still very comfortable taking all my clothes off and throwing myself at him.

One-A-Day Sluts

My favorite class by far right now is Advanced Biochem, and not just because the prof is one of the few young, funny, female teachers in the chem department. It's also for the fun and useful info. Yesterday our teacher, a confirmed lush, explained that if you were gonna get really really drunk, a day or two before you should load up on vitamin B. Dully noted. A little cartoon thought buble appeared over my head... a multivitamin designed for my needs!

1) Vitamain B- component of enzyme that detoxifies you of alcohol so you wake from your night of binge drinking feeling refreshed and not like vodka is coming out of your pores

2) Vitamin E- To ward off that dull, gray skin that comes from smoking and drinking and boning all night instead of sleeping.

3) Caffiene- Of course.

4) Cranberry Extract- I used to get UTIs like every time I had sex. Might be because every time I have sex I have it like, all night long. I have a problem with moderation. A day after I'd feel it coming on and be like, on campus where for some reason there is no cranberry juice to be found! My mom picked up on this, and bought me a big jar of cranberry extract capsules at Costco. I take a few before I fool around, and for the following 2 days. Haven't had a hint of a UTI.

Obviously this pill would be like, the size of a golf ball but I think it's a cool idea.

Daddy Issues

I never really liked my dad. He came into the picture when I was 3 or 4 (my step dad actually) and the story I've been told is that I was furious that this strange man was taking my mommy away from me. Apparently one evening I was so angry that he was intruding on me and my mom and monopolizing her attention that I took a shit in his bag. So there. My mom had been abandoned and divorced and had a baby to take care of, and even though he was still married to someone else, I don't think she could resist being rescued.

Growing up I always thought my dad was kind of a tool. He's too gregarious and to anxious to be every one's best friend. I was wary of most of what he said, even his affection for my mom seemed stagy and not genuine. Nothing about him was very genuine, he has money and he's eager to show everyone, and so he tries to have expensive tastes but gives himself away by ordering "Expresso" and abroad he's very much the embarrassing American. He needs constant admiration, he's always trying to tell me and my brother stories about how great he is at his job, not understanding that admiration from his children is not earned the way a promotion is earned. He's not smart, he uses words he thinks sound impressive in ways that indicate he does not know what they mean and yet he looks down on anyone without a graduate degree. He never remembers anything about anyone else, he calls people by the wrong names all the time and is not remotely embarrassed by it, he was never very interested in what I was doing in high school. He'd ask about school but not know what classes I was taking, what play I'd been at rehearsal for for the past 2 months, and everything is a vehicle for him to talk about himself. He's basically Michael Scott.

The only time he was interested in what I was doing was when I was out. That made him furious, and he would yell at my mom until she called me and told me I had to come home immediately. I thought it was all her, and all throughout high school I hated her for not letting me see my friends, sometimes grounding me from play rehearsal or other extracurricular activities for offenses that were never explained to me. I thought she was just a horrible, cruel woman, and I'd come home and cry and my dad would give me a sympathetic look and put all the responsibility on my mom. He never said anything to me, it all came through my mom. He'd later accuse her of not letting him be a father to me.

My mom is smarter than him and it scares him. He left her for his girlfriend from high school who never went to college and never left the area. She is so impressed by his Ph D, the fact that he can take her all over the world (even if it means I have to take out loans for school because money is suddenly a lot tighter...). and in return he's her little bitch, he jumps to answer her calls, which come about 15 times a day, he wears what she tells him too, he asks her before he does anything, he's stopped eating red meat even though he used to love steak, he used to love Bombay Sapphire Martinis and now he drinks fruity girl drinks because she made them from some recipe she cut out of redbook or something. He's become an emasculated little pussy whipped piece of shit.

My point is, I never liked him and I would be perfectly happy never to see him again. It sucks that now I have loans to pay off after I graduate and we're gonna have to sell the house and we can't go on vacation anymore and he can go to Hawaii and Paris with this other woman, but I'm not gonna miss him. My mom will still miss him, even though the man she was in love with doesn't exist anymore, and my brother will miss having a father he sees regularly, but I never liked him, I was never attached to him, so losing him is not painful for me.

When we went to family therapy (which was awesome, by the way, I had a kick ass time) I told the therapist that I didn't want anything to do with my dad, that he was never really a big part of my life and I would be happy not having a dad, but that my only hesitation was that this would most likely mess me up a little when it came to guys. As soon as I said it I tried to take it back, I didn't want to let my dad have the power to influence anything in my life, even if it was just through his absence. The therapist said that would be a problem for me no matter what, and that I was likely to pick guys that were somewhat distant like my dad if I wasn't careful.

That's a stock answer. I think it's somewhat more specialized than that. Actually looking at the boyfriends and quasi-boyfriends I've had, it's clear that I have been picking guys that I don't even like or respect. I find myself describing them as not that smart, insecure, not funny, boring, a little girly, not sexy... I could get close with them and comfortable and tell them I love them too but it made ending it very easy.

So my realization that I really like S terrifies me. I don't just like that he likes me, I'm not just feeling blown up by the attention and admiration, I like him, independent of that. So when he leaves me I won't be able to say I'm better off without him. I will miss him. I've never missed a boy after breaking up with them. I just miss the sex. I don't miss my dad. I just miss the money. It's going to suck really hard when S leaves me.

Success

The requisite three weeks of no shaving had passed, and I was now ready to get aforementioned bikini wax. I called the nice salon where I've gotten over priced, mediocre haircuts and where a brazillian wax was $75, $85 with tip. I'd reconciled with the idea that I was going to just have to suck it up and do it, and maybe cut into the wine budget. They also had no appointments available that day, the next day, the day after that... Behind the laundromat I saw a shady little nail place, with a sign "-axing". The W was burned out. I went by there again, and the place was empty except for a korean dude watching TV. The place is on a corner with big windows and fluorescent lights, a kind of fish bowl effect. I asked the man if they did waxing "Eyebrow?" "No... bikini?" He turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing in the middle of the fish bowl.

After almost a minute he brought back a girl who looked about 15. She took me into a room that was all mirror on one side, a flickering bluish flourescent light, and a folding table with a blanket over it, and a collection of little cats with wide eyed expressions on another table facing right up between where my legs were about to be. A poor design choice, I think. The room was about the size and ambiance of the back of a van.

"Where you going?" she asked.
"What?" I was kinda edged out.
"You go to the beach?" Oh. Um.
"Yeah sure...for...Thanksgiving." What the hell? That doesn't even make sense.

She started spreading the first patch of wax. "You scared??" I smiled weakly. It was certainly not the best wax I'd ever had. The wax was too hot, scalding the skin a little, and she tried to rip it off before it had set enough, so she had to go back over things a few times. When I flinched, she looked alarmed and said "Don't cry! I will cry if you cry, for feeling bad for you." I was no where near crying. It's really not that bad, and this was probably the most painful wax I've had. Granted I've only had like, 5 before this. But I was determined to be a trooper about it and remind myself this really does suck less than shaving. This place charged $45 for a wax. I thought it'd be cheaper, since they were so half assed, but I'll take what I can get.

After going home and taking a shower, I tried on all my favorite underwear. Beautiful. And it feels fantastic. No really. It's a good think I live alone, is all I'm saying.

Because I'm a huge dork, I had to tell my BFF. "Thanks," she said. "I always wonder how your pubic region is doing." No applause?

Of course I told S too, since I'm going to see him this weekend :-D. He didn't seem too excited about the aesthetic advances of my vagina either. Whatever, you people are haters. I'm excited.

I really don't think the pain is that bad. I'm worried about messing up my skin or getting a bump or something. And I randomly had the thought later that night that all that pulling was going to destroy the collogen and over time I'd have an old lady vag. Is that insane? But the pain doesn't bother me, I'd rather have a short amount of pain than a long period of discomfort. I don't mind things that hurt while you're doing them, I kind of like trying to go faster on the elliptical till my legs start burning or getting the last set of crunches in. The hot flushed skin after getting waxed is like the way your legs feel like jelly after working out, it just feels like a sense of acomplishment.