Some where I got the impression that casual, care free hook ups were hot and sexy and long term relationship sex was tedious and dull. Who came up with this? Sometimes I think maybe I'm special because initially I had fucked him with abandon, saying whatever vivid vulgar shit popped into my head and generally being a slutty slutty slut-whore from whortopia who is not apologizing for it. It was really fun.

I never have been able to be shy about wanting this boy. Seriously, I wouldn't be fooling anyone. I like crawling on my hads and knees over to him and looking up with those big eyes begging him to unzip and pull his cock out. The huge grin across my face is unintentional. I'm more excited every time, and I love trying to top what I did before, farther down my throat, more tounge, eye contact.

And anyone who doesn't think sex gets better and better isn't trying. Learning more and more how each other's bodies move lets you think about how a hip thrust or throwing my legs back can do. Cumming at the same time happens without trying- nothing makes me cum like feeling him building up to it, watching his face change as he fuckes me exponentially harder and faster. I find myself trying to out perform the last time... I used to hate being on top due to laziness and not wanting to take on responsibility for the ultimate sucess of the endeavor, but I rock that shit out now. I slide up and down and back and forth faster and harder than I thought I could move, and for the first time I can enjoy having leg muscles that can do that. I arch my back and let my tits bounce up and down as I fuck him, watching myself in the reflection of the framed poster over his bed. I look fucking good.

And for some reason, he lets me be very greedy. Laying in his bed in the morning while I plays with my clit (my favorite thing in the entire world), I wasn't ready to stop after I came. "Make me cum again" and he indulges me as much as I do him. "Don't stop" I know it's increadibly demanding to want to get off 5, 6, 7 times in a row but it's better and better each time. "How many times have you cum?" "9" "Well let's make number 10 really good" It's always really good. It has never ever not been really good. He's set the bar very high. But after getting off a number of times, that final orgasm that puts you over the edge is insane. "Final" because it leaves my mind in a blur, my entire body worn out from seizing and shaking and every neuron firing like a machine gun. So sometimes I'm demanding. It is usually five minutes or so after, when I've regain the ability to speak, that I like to tell him he made me cum so hard I forgot how to read.

Vacation

For spring break, S and I went to New Orleans for 4 days. I spent 3 nights with him in DC, 3 in New Orleans and another in DC before I left. For a relationship that's otherwise made up of scattered weekends and a steady flow of AIM and text messaging, a 24/7 of each other had the potential to be difficult. I fully expected at some point to have a full on yelling/crying fight.

But I was very excited, I researched hotels and restaurants and bars, I had visions of walking around the French Quarter, spending afternoons in little cafes and boutiques, drinking Sazeracs in very posh bars all evening, slipping into the white sheets of our king size hotel bed....

Like most over-anticipated events, the reality didn't really live up to that. Bourbon Street was filled with middle aged middle american tourists with fanny packs milling in and out of dark dingy bars with plastic cups of daquaris and glassy dead eyes. A chubby girl in a bra and thong stood outside a club with a sign for big ass beers . I felt like such a prude. Much of the rest of the area was made up of souvenir shops and more bars. As we walked all over I started to despair. What was I thinking, what were we going to do in a place like this? It's not a town that caters to the young urban professional, which he is and I tend to behave as. Walking all over wasn't even as much fun as I'd hoped, and there are suprisingly few cafes in the quarter. I think I might have confused New Orleans with Paris.

But we had a great time. A few great restaurants and a hotel room were really all we needed. I had anticipated having a hotel room with S with as much excitment as the trip itself- sex in a hotel room always sounded so glamorous. I'd brought all my favorite lingerie- black lacey thong and bra with thigh high stockings, bra and panty sets, my sheer pink baby doll... S has an exceptional appreciation for these things, so they didn't go to waste but most of the time I found myself naked or in sweats curled up with him, no make up and hair a mess. I'd thought that taking us to this vibrant, excitingly unfamilliar city would stir up that sexy, uninhibited feeling that inspires impulsiveness in people on vacation, but instead we seemed to just indulge in the familiarity of one another.

Although I was very glad I brought my super short blue plaid mini skirt, cropped white oxford, over the knee socks and 4 inch heels. I've been thinking about that for months, and finally had a chance to see if it looked as hot as I imagined. S said, "This? Is worth the trip." "You know, I have all this in my apartment..."

By the time we checked out we were more than ready to leave. Getting back seemed to take a lot longer, and curling up in S's bed had the same comfortable familliarity of my own bed.

S: "So, I saw something the other day that made me think of you."
Me: "Oh?"
S: "Did you see the Lindsay Lohan pictures, where she was Marylin Monroe?"
Me: "Umm hells yeah. What about them?"
S: "Oh, they just made me think of you."

And just when I thought he couldn't be any sweeter...

Edited to add:

"lol, i was refering to the marylin shoot, i mean, lindsay was hot, but you're way more classic glamor than she is...lindsay is still a girl, to me, you and marylin are women ;-)....lol i mean, i'd not kick lindsay out of bed, but I was comparing you the marylin shoot, much more luxurious, and come on baby, you're an original, never a copy...i mean, i always hate revising my blog posts and i'm sure you do too, but I'm gonna have to insist, you're a marylin to me, not a lindsey"

hangover day

Have you ever ended up with a epic hangover that you are quite sure you did not deserve? Wednesday night I went to have dinner with my advisor and his wife, as I often do, and had 3 or 4 glasses of white wine while I was there. Less than a bottle. I ended up feelig very drunk, chalked it up to just being tired/ having missed my workout that day, and went home, drank some water, and went to bed.

The next morning I thought I was going to die- my head was pounding, my skin was clammy, I was dry heaving all morning. I managed to drag my ass to campus where I was lucky enough to run into my ex boyfriend of 2 years, Will.

He said hey, and I said hey, and I tried to keep walking but he wanted to start a conversation. He wanted to tell me he was taking another year to graduate. Of course. His pattern was to sign up for classes, and then forget to go because he was always, always high. Trying to have a relationship with him was not only a bad idea, but really imposible. He was always too high to really be there, it was like trying to interact with the shell of a guy. The fact that he's still in school is kind of remarkable, but I know that he has alienated all of his friends, not just be, by constantly being too checked out to function.

I told him I ws getting a master's next year, and he was all "Oh that's great....but, are you gonna get accepted?"
"Um, yes? I mean, I'm not worried at all"
"Yeah, cause I mean, you're really smart Sarah, seriously, you are." wtf is this? I was so annoyed by his condescention I just said. "Well, yeah"
"Really you are. How've you been?"
"Really good actually, everything;s going great, feelig really shitty today though"
"yeah you look like a mess, are you ok?"
"Yeah I'm really sick... lie a hagover and maybe something else? I dunno"
"Oh are you drinking again?" he asked in this low voice that made me wana stragle him
"Actually I haven't been drinking much at all this semester, this year, I've been really healthy"
"It's really bad for you you know, you shouldn't drink so much"
"Um yes, I had like 3 glasses of wine?"
"You see it hurts your liver, your liver's right here" and he put his hand on my waist. I recoiled away involenterily, like he'd bured me.
"Yeah I think I know where my liver is. Good luck actually graduating, I gotta go finish some work."
"Ok well, yeah you knnow I've..." He kept talking as I walked away.

I felt awful after that. I never feel good after seeing him. At the very least I think, were you this unattractive when we were going out? His features are too feminine, he's small, like 3 inches shorter than me. He talks like he's on mood stablizers. He's arrogant and boring. Going out with him was a tremendous drain on my self esteem, and my biggest regret was that I did it for so long. I never got the sense he was attracted to me at all, and he was at best mildly interested. I was aware that this was not the ideal situation but I thought, well beggers can't be choosers.

As the afternoon went on, I came out of my hangover haze and managed to get stuff done. while working i the lab, I got a call that S had sent me flowers. Oh yeah, it's Valentine's Day. Even better, instead of the drugstore arrangement of red roses and baby's breath in celophane, he'd sent some really gorgeous tulips. So much cooler.

Completely negated earlier events of the day

going down

I've never been a big fan of getting eaten out. It's never bad, but all things considered it just seems like a mediocre idea. Maybe I've just had a few less than stellar experiences with over-enthusiastic drunk freshmen boys. My primary reaction was always, "Wow, he's really trying, he didn't have to do that!" or "oh shit, now I have to go down on him." I didn't get any real gratification, just recognized the effort. It was just so clear they were doing me a favor, and I'd better enjoy it. I don't fake orgasms, really, I haven't in long long time, but I always found myself greatly exagerating my enjoyment, to show my appreciation and maybe to suggest that they could stop whenever they wanted, thanks.

Eventually I just sorta skipped it entirely, I'd wiggle out of positions that looked like they were going there, or I'd flat out say I didn't like it . "Oh I'll make you like it." Whatever dude. When the guy insisted or I wasn't up for arguing, I'd switch into Appreciative Mode and applaud the skill.

Last weekend S wanted to eat me out. I was feeling sexy as all hell (waxing is fantastic y'all) and I managed to get into it. I kind of love watching things like that, somehow I can feel voyeuristic and narcissistic at the same time (like looking back when he's fucking me from behind because I like watching my hips thrusting back into his. Mirror in the bedroom maybe?). Anyways. For once, being eaten out didn't seem like feigned awkward chivalry, and it didn't imply any expectations of me. I mean, I wasnt thinking "I've gotta give him head now" because I'd been aching to suck his dick since we'd gotten into bed, if not earlier.

Those long, slow licks made my whole body ache, getting stronger as his tounge moved harder and faster... the build up was extraordinary, but to get over that edge and actually cum like I needed to, I had to fucking focus.

I blame S- he has recalibrated the way I cum. It's like playing a video game on a new level- you could beat level one over and over, but level 9 is another story. Getting off has never been a problem for me, but the quality, duration, intensity of my orgasms are so much greater now that I don't think I can have the regular ones anymore. My body doesn't recognize it, it's holding out for the good shit. Getting eaten out is quite lovely but it's not gonna give me the mind blowing, explosive, can't see straight orgasms I've been spoiled by.

Weekend

This weekend, my boyfriend and my mom came to stay with me, in my apartment. When I told people my plans, they'd say, "Won't that be a little... awkward?" I'd say, "Yeah, isn't it great? I live for this shit." I've reached this really great point where I'm confident and happy with my relationship with him and with my mom that I couldn't imagine anything going badly. Awkward, yes, but not irreperably so.

It would seem like an odd arrangement, to have sex while your mom is in the next room. But more than that it was unfamilliar (but not uncomfortable) to be flirty and affectionate with my mom watching. She absolutely loved it, I think she found it really entertaining. And although S was careful to ask what was allowed before hand ("can I kiss you in front of your mom? are we allowed to sleep in the same bed?") once it was clear that this was all ok he was completely comfortable, and for that I have to give him huge props.

My mom didn't hesitate to call us out, in jest. In the car she said "Oh you guys don't wanna sit in the back together and make out?" (like my brother and his girlfriend do) "I guess if you can actually sleep together you don't need to do that." I love that rather than turning red and thinking, oh my mom is so embarssing! I just smile and kind of love the fact that my mom calls it like it is.

Then we went to meet the advisor and his wife, and everyone had a great time. S said, "After meeting him, I have to call bullshit on all your stories."
"What? Why? I've never said anything that wasn't true, what don't you beleive?'
"Oh no I believe it's all true, but it's not malicious at all, they've just adopted you like a daughter and he cares about you and your mom, he's been so lucky financially and he just wants to share that."
"Yeah. That's....what I said."
"Well, I was worried, but he's a great guy."

I used to keep this boy a secret. It's such a releif to have everyone like each other, and I jsut feel lucky to have all these people who care about me together.

Strings Attached?

I have a research advisor here at school who often takes on the role of sugar daddy. Through a lot of good luck, he has found himself with more money than he knows what to do with, and for some reason, he is very attached to me. It may be the fact that he taught my mother when he was just starting at this college and liked her quite a lot, it may be that I look eerily simillar to his wife (who was a model for Yves St Laurent many many years ago, omg!) but I think it's mostly fueled by typical old-man desire to "help" people. I think he has reached the age where he wants to leave a legacy, and he has more or less been disappointed by his children.

He plays the role of doting father, but because I have never experienced that, I'm sort of uneasy. That doesn't stop me though, I've already let him buy me a very expensive Cole Haan purse, to slip me envelopes of cash when I go out of town for a weekend. My pride and my desire for true financial indpendence are sometimes outweighed by my materialism.

Starting in May, I'll get a graduate student stipend. My advisor will supplement this stipend, because he can. I know that he expects more of his graduate studets than most do. The extra money means working longer and harder, that's reasonable. On the DL, he's giving me a few grand to "invest", as long as I meet with him a few times a week to to let him advise me on my investment strategy. Ok then.

My boy is visiting this weekend, and he will meet this very weird man. Before meeting him, my advisor has offered his frequent flier miles to anywhere in the US, for Spring Break. Reaction #1- hells yeah! Reaction #2- You are a creepy creepy man.

I have experienced that, in accepting these sorts of favors, there are always strings attached, even if it's just a nagging feeling that you don't deserve what you have or that you'll always be indebted to someone. I can't decide whether to accept the tickets or not. S is uncomfortable too, understandably.

I told my advisor's other grad student about his offer. "Aww that'll be so much fun, that's so nice of him!" he said.
"Yeah I don't know, it's kind of uncomfortable."
"Nah, why's that?"
"Well, I'm not sure how my boy feels about it...."
"No?"
"Well, how would you feel if your girlfriend worked for this guy that liked her a lot and spent a lot of time with her, took her out to dinner a lot, bought her a lot of stuff, got her drunk, and gave her expensive gifts and vacations and was taking her to France this summer?"
"Oh no, that would not be ok, I'd wanna fight 'im."
"Yeah, you see, it sounds really bad."
"Shit yeah. So your boy's gonna meet him this weekend?"
"Yeah. Oh, it will be some fun."
"Is he gonna start some shit? Is he gonna try to throw down at dinner, he gonna get mad and shit?"
"What? Oh, no. No he's not like, retarded!"

We'll see. Either way, it will be interesting. And damn, I'd love a long weekend in a hotel room with my boy over break...

faith

I like to think that I'm a very rational person; I try to give emotions as little imput as possible. I think, as a result, I'm really bad at mitigating them.

On the metro (whhy is this such an emotional place for me?) I said something about how sad it is that predjudice againsnt gay people is so prevalent, that it's no better than racism. S described himself as hating the sin, not the sinner. "But that implies homosexuality is a sin,"' I responded. "Well, yeah, I think it is." Ummm. "You mean, the bible would say it's a sin?" S- "Yeah, I beleive that it's a sin."' S is incredibly tolerant and compassionate, wouldn't deny anyone the same rights as anyone else, cares deeply about his gay friends and wouldn't want them living a life that didn't make them happy, doesn't think they are going to hell. And yet he can say that he truly believes that homosexuality is a sin.

I tried to argue with him, I got frustrated, I got sad and started to tell myself that we had to break up right now, I got angry and told him it was because of hs beleif that hate crimes were comitted, that anyone who would belive something on the basis of an antiquated book lacked intelligence or sanity.

And then he got mad. How could I call him intolerant when he stood by friendswho had come out when their family and other friends wouldn't? He had never imposed his faith on anyone else, yet somehow I felt justified in cutting down his beleif system because I disagreed with it? I'd never seen him that angry. I can't remember the last time I saw anyone that angry. I was terrified, not of the explosive display of angry but as I realized what I'd done, terrified that by talking to him like he was some horrible biggot when I know he's a wonderful, tolerant person and by showing such contempt for something so important to him, I was going to aliente myself from him beyond repair because of my intolerance.

I'll never understand faith. Anything related should not be open for discussion, not to aoid argument but because an argument cannot even be made between us. We'll always speak different languages when we talk about religion. I can hardly understand beleiving in something. I know what words like Think, Feel, and Know mean, but the word Beleive seems like this hybrid of those, the certitude without the basis. Belifes are scary, you can't reason with a belife.

We got home and I cried, we appolgized (for overreacting, for blowing up, for not understanding). "you're struggling with hearing me say this," S said, "but I've been struggling with it for a long time, reconciling that part of what I bleive with the more important part, to love everyone." What can I say?

And then for the first time in my life I had make up sex, and it was everything I was lead to beleive it would be. I think an intense bout of crying right before is the real key. Hot right?

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.

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.

what a little tease

I'm such a terrible tease. Over the summer I hooked up with M. I was pleasantly suprised, had a great time, and left feeling affirmed in my cuteness. We said we'd hang out again sometime, but I was going to school, and even though he's fun I knew neither of us was making a trip for that.

When I went home over break I was totally hung up on S. Like, without question. So I ignored all of M's texts and calls. Real mature. When I was back at school I told him sorry, I was way busy. He wasn't mad, but he's gunning hard for Thanksgiving hook up. There's no way. But I'm being a douchebag, I'm letting him talk hiself into a hole while I respond with "yeah" "haha" "I dunno maybe" because I enjoy the attention.

I'm trying not to lie, but I'm being evasive

M- "I can't believe you don't have a boy at school, bein so sexy and all."
Me- "Yeah no one here I'm into really"
M- "haha that's good for me at least. You even hook up with anyone since you saw me?"
Me- "Well yeah" I can't quite justify lying
M- " :-( ouch babe. I mean, I guess don't worry about it, it happens"
Me- "Yes."
M- "I mean don't feel bad if you got drunk and did whatever."
Me- "Well not exactly"
M- "But those tits are mine"
Me- "um"
M- "As long as you come see me next time"
Me- "Well I don't know, we'll see"
M- "Don't like me anymore?"
Me- "I'll just have to see if I can"

I'm a little disgusted with myself. And this afternoon, out of no where....

M- "I wanna give you an orgasm again, like I did before."
Me- "Haha"
M- "I think I made you cum like 3 times right?"
Me- "lol" (whoa dude 3 times in almost 24 hours? I'm f-ing blown away)
M- "I wish you'd remembered your camera, I love jerkin off to ya" (yeah, I "forgot" that)
M- "But I'd rather have sex with you" (shit, really? wow)
Me- "well, yeah..."
M- "remember when i made you cum? Your legs were like, shaking, it was crazy."
Me- "yeah" (Ok, it wasn't bad, but compared to S? completely forgettable)
M- "You make me cum better than anyone, you know that?" (Yes, that's cause I'm phenomenal. I know.) "You gonna come see me soon right?"
Me- "yeah I'll have to see. Gotta class now, I'll ttyl"

This is wrong, isn't it? If I'm all about S, should I let M talk to me like that? I tell myself that because I don't really engage or encourage him as much as I used to, and because I don't agree to anything and I don't send him the pictures he asks for every day, I'm not accountable.

I like a boy.

I can't even be ambivalent, I tried. I fought it really hard, but it just got more difficult to convince myself the more emphatically and genuinely he explained himself. The good things (so sexy, so smart, apparantly crazy about me for more reasons than I thought) are irresistable and the bad things just seem like unfortunate misunderstandings and mistakes. Thursday night I just wanted to see him, he drove down.

While he was making the two hour drive I started to get nervous. I'm not as slim, toned, tan, highlighted, coiffed, polished, turned out as I would like to be. I thought about what I should wear, some pretty lingerie set, a little nighty, smokey eye makeup, heels?

Fuck that. I got out of the shower and combed my hair, put on the boxers and white cami I had on before and went back to watching Grey's Anatomy DVDs. There will be time for beautiful lingerie and fuck-me-heels soon.

Once we were in the bedroom he slowly peeled off all my clothes and laid me down on the bed, every inch of me in plain view. I couldn't have felt more comfortable or unselfconscious. "You look so gorgeous when you cum, I just wanna keep making you cum all night." We spent the night so intertwined with each other we couldn't have seen any of each other's flaws anyway.

Ambivalence

How can it be possible to know someone is terrible for you, to be treated like shit over and over and tell yourself that you're never going to let them fuck with you again, and still entertain the thought that maybe it'll be ok this next time?

I'm disgusted with myself. How many times have you seen a friend of yours do the same thing and wonder how she could be so stupid? It seems impossibly moronic until you're doing it too. Your friends will try to help, but there's nothing they can do. They can pump you up and tell you you deserve better, they can cut him down reminding you of what a little shit he was before, they can probably tell you exactly what is going to happen to you if you don't stop talking to him right now, but all of that just makes you want him more. It's like when someone lectures you about cigarettes, everything is more enticing when it's bad for you.

But this is so much worse for me than smoking! Much more addictive. It's more like coke. How can you say no when it's right there in front of you? It's so sexy, and it makes you feel like The Hottest Shit Ever, but as soon as you get into it it starts to fade and the comedown is hell.

I feel like this is the story of my life- "Dating prudes sucks.... I miss you" No shit, FUCKER! I hate to play games and I hate to make guys jump through hoops and more than anything I hate having to hold out unnaturally long before having sex and that's why I'll probably never have a boyfriend again? I've been pretending for a while that I'm just so liberated and sex and the city about everything, that I don't want to get attached to someone, that I just want to be able to hook up with anyone without a thought. But that's bull shit. Maybe I'd like the be Samantha Jones or Slut Machine once in a while but I'm not.

I think the same way I assumed I was a loser in high school cause I got good grades, I just assumed I was a slut in college cause I loved having sex. It's not fair, I shouldn't have to choose. I don't think the girl you like having sex with has to be mutually exclusive from the girl you like. I know the Reformed Slut plotline is tired but honestly, it never really felt right! Just like how I smoked weed cause it was a thing to do in high school and provided an unchallenging social group in college but I figured out that I actually didn't like it much (damn, I'm gonna have to change the name of my blog!). I think if you have any self awareness and maturity you should be able to recognize if your sex life matters to you, and get past whatever puritanical mindset leads you to believe that amazing sex has to be a dirty little secret you hide from your friends or feel guilty about.

I got in way over my head a year ago, I didn't realize that wanting him so bad made him think less of me. It was like the more into him I was, the more I was letting myself go, the more disposable I was to him. Isn't that more than a little misogynistic?

The Reformed Asshole story arch may be a harder sell than that of the Reformed Slut. A reasonable person would never speak to him again, I mean seriously, am I a masochist?

I don't know.

Dear Self Control,

What the fuck man? We were doing so well. As recently as 10:00 last night I was singing your praises over the phone, and I truly believed we were cool now. You know, Self Control, I really thought we were gonna be BFFs, I thought you were gonna be there for me when I said to myself and to anyone that would listen, "no way am I going to hook up with that asshole ever again."

And I kept saying it, all through the night, even as it became increasingly clear that it was nonsense. I was counting on you to be there for me, Self Control. I was so sure that you had my back (along with all my friends that promised not to leave as long as he was here) that I neglected to check myself or monitor my behavior in the slightest. I thought you, and my friends, were around watching out for me and suddenly you were all gone! And I think you took Rational Thought with you too.

The fact that I was drunk enought to usurp the title of Sloppy Scientist might have had a deleterious effect on you, poor Self Control, but that is no excuse. I need more from you. Simply repeating "Oh there's no way I'm hooking up with that douchebag ever again" while my clothes come off is not remotely helpful.

I was actually very amused by your ineffectual late arrival in the morning. No longer drunk, almost awake, peering through the haze of my hangover, I thought I saw you, Self Control, and you made some attempt to stop me from doing whatever we were in the middle of doing. I couldn't handle the change in directions (seriously where the fuck were you before I got started?) so I got a little lost.

My ambivalence came out thusly- instead of deciding what to do (stop? kick him out? keep going?), I went back and forth between pulling him on top of me and pushing him off, wrapping my legs around him and pushing his hands away from me, etc. And then I realized that it was not you, Self Control. In you place you had decided to send in your semiretarded cousin, Bat Shit Crazy. I should have know Bat Shit Crazy would make an appearance.

Step up your game, Self Control.
-Sarah

iDrunkText

Loved College Callgirl's post on The Rules; namely, that following them is effectively pretending to have a busy, interesting life.

When someone is blowing you off for a while you have these stages, I guess. First you obviously want them a little more, they're so elusive and you're still expecting to hear from them, and then you're so mad at them you can't wait to tell them what an asshole they are. And then you realize what a useless approach that would be and you say you're never going to talk to them again but in the back of your mind you worry that they will just have great timing and try to talk to you when youre bored/lonely/horny, and it'll all go to shit. And then they slip out of your mind and you forget they exist. Success.

Gotta love when someone randomly text messages you and you are so busy having a fantastic time to look at your phone, and you don't see a 10:30 text message til 3:30. (5 hour rule?) Why even respond? Just to let the know you're not ignoring them but you've been going strong all night? That's a little petty of me but it's satisfying.

I've just had such a fantastic week. Getting blazed out of my mind monday, watching my friends race through crowds with traffic cones over their heads and flipping face first over benches, wing night, busting out the speakers thursday, made a fantastic 5 course dinner last ight and crashed Courtny's party. Everyone I know either brings their own beer or throws in for a case or whatever. This girl spent $80 on alcohol and reminded us all week that we could drink for free in her room friday.

Last night was just too good. I love that even though everyone's apartment is a two minute walk, the boys sleep over with us most nights. Love these kids. A random text message just seemed so out of place. I look at my phone as we're all getting in bed and I was just confused. I thought, doesn't he know it's summer time? Why does he even have time to text me? Durring school I'd text message whole conversations, now that shit drives me crazy cause I get shit to do.

But seriously I think he just got an iPhone and texted everyone he knows.

thanks for that

Just had one of the best self-induced, non battery powered orgasms in a while. I didn't even mean to. An accident. I was thinking about someone I shouldn't be thinking about for like, a list of reasons. Not a reason that would abviously make it hotter, like, “You can't do that, he's your teacher!” or a reason that makes it actully wrong, like “You can't do that, he's 16!” but a reason along the lines of, “You can't do that, that will end very very badly for you, and you should know better.” Normally when that sceario comes up in my head I either find something else to do, or I just... pretend it's someone else, that I have yet to meet, who makes me cum as good as he does but without the negative side effects. I can dream.

I'm hesitant, of course, to get off thinking about him That's soo maladaptive, right? The idea is to hook up with new people. But rather than stop myself this time I let it play out in my head. I was not unreasonable, obviously it's tempting to imagine him saying something like, oh you're so much hotter/better than the girl I'm dating now, but come on, even when rubbing one out I wouldn't be that self indulgent. I mean, no one's that predictable right?

No, actually more fun than feeling superior, I was enjoying the anxiousness I'd enevitably feel in such a situation, ya know, where you want to but you shouldn't... it's fun to imagine the knowing looks that say, Come on I know you're dying for it, your attempts at self control aren't fooling anyone. And as I sat there with his hand up my skirt some part of my brain would be pleading with me to stop him and I'd like to think that I would (in real life), but see, when it's in your head, you can do whatever you want. So, if I did let that shit go down, it might feel something like....ooh just like that. Mmm thanks babe.