Before I got on the train to go to DC this weekend I went out for a bottle of wine with one of my professors, so for the begining of the ride I was kinda lit. I have a trigger that is set off by a certain BAC- I start making flirty eyes at everyone. Across the aisle and two rows up was a tall, broad shouldered, 20 something boy who I couldn't help looking up and down when he walked across to the bathroom. At one point I made some prolonged eye contact, and my half-bottle of wine made me smile a little as I eye-fucked him a little. I might have licked my lips. Who knows.

I headed up to the snack car hoping to get a delightfully fake-tasting, vacuum-packed sammich. As I'm standing in line, I feel something on the back of my neck. It's that guy! "I like your scarf." What a weirdo! Well whatever, I got like 2 more hours to kill. He asks if I wanna have a drink with him, but didn't offer to pay for it, so I figured I wasn't implying anything by it, right?

Turns out he's in the Navy, get a A.S. in Phys Ed, would be a personal trainer if he could only pass the test, lives in Jersey and makes it clear he hates all of it. A real winner. "So that's why I have to drink." Hot. I give it a good effort, I smile and flip my hair and I do the eye thing a little. He's not subtle about looking me up and down appreciatively but I can't get him to say much. We finish out drinks and head back to our seats. Just as I start in on my Vogue he sits down next to me to share his big bottle of rum and coke. Well, ok.

"What's the craziest thing you've done lately?" Hmm, what's the lamest movie line you've quoted lately? I ramble about getting arrested or the shit we pulled this summer, and that isn't doing it for him. "When's the last time you were really satisfied?" Ha. Haha. Wow. I'm a super bitch so I say "What?" and make him repeat it. "Hmm, the last time I was really satisfied...wow... I guess like, Sunday? Or maybe Wednesday or Tuesday. But definitly Sunday." He was not expecting that. "Wow you're doing better than me!"
"Well, that's not you're fault, you're in the goddamn Navy!"
"Yeah but still....like, last Sunday?"
"Yeah I do ok."

Navy guy starts to look for a way to convince me to mess around on the boy I'm on my way to see. Y'all have got to stop that, it's sorta pathetic. His deep depression is breaking my heart so I sorta lean in and tell him that if I'd met him on a train a few months ago, I would be trying like hell to get him to sneak into the bathroom with me.

Is that true? That's something I used to think about on the train, how hot it would be to meet a stranger and sneak off to the bathroom and tear into each other. C'mon, it sounds hot. If it weren't for S, would I wanna get on Navy boy? If I was just heading home, no boy anywhere, and this great looking but a bit dim, just off from the military was trying this hard, what would make me say no?

And where are these guys when I don't have a better option waiting for me? I shut it off over the summer, and now I've had like 5 guys do this, come on really strong and then try to talk me into it after I explain. Points for persistance, but come on, don't be that guy!

No really, I AM a nice girl!

I like to think that fun porn-type stuff like that is just an add-on to already good sex. If "normal" sex is vanilla, porn inspired kink is the toppings. I don't want to only have vanilla ice cream, but I don't want to eat a bowl of sprinkles.

I can't decide how I feel about the Jezebel article "How Porn Ruined Sex." The thesis is that because guys have been watching porn since they were 10, their conception of good sex is so skewed that they pretty much only appreciate kinky, fetishy things and that because of the evil porn, women are forced to do things they don't want to do. I'm also kind of psyched cause I know the girl from the opening anecdote from my freshman dorm. I think.

Like pretty dumb things said, the article works off the assumption that there's no intersection between anything you see in porn and anything girls want to do. Um I secretly wish I was a porn star. Not really, but you know what I mean. I'm excited that my new digicam takes video, is all I'm saying. I have a schoolgirl skirt I would never wear in public. I have handcuffs. Not gonna lie, sometimes I love acting like a porn star.

I guess I was a naive little ho because I thought I could just do whatever I wanted and that maybe someone would, I dunno, like that about me. That didn't work out so well. Why would a virile, sexy guy throw away the cute, smart, sexy girl that can't get enough of him and who genuinely loves indulging him for the girl who had no interest, who he had to beg for it?

The article says that because of porn women have to do slutty things they don't want to do to keep guys interested. But wanting to do them reduces you to fucking trash that isn't worth your time or respect. I feel like I talk about this all the time but it just infuriates me.

Later in the article there's a quote from a guy into S&M that says, "I do that to keep from getting too close to women." And you wonder why they're so reluctant. Again, maybe I'm just naive but I don't think it has to work that way.

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.

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.

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.

I have a sick, sick habit.

I did this randomly a while back, this summer, when I was drunk and my friends had passed out. Then later I did it again. I stopped for a while but Thursday night I couldn't help myself, and last night I needed it again, it kept me up half the night.

I post on Craig's List under Casual Encounters. I write a little vignette of the sort of things I'm wishing I was doing, just straigtforward smut. I've always kinda enjoyed writing that sort of thing. I put a picture or two, as well. A picture of me, without my face, in underwear or something.

Then I watch my inbox fill to the brim. I posted under DC thursday, I got about 75 responses in a half an hour and then they flagged and removed me. I didn't know I could be too dirty for Craig's List! I should win a prize.

Last night I posted the same thing for New York. I got about 250 responses before they removed me.

Lots of gorgeous men, lots of sad sad fucks, lots of married men making me sad and angry, lots of sweet sounding 18 year olds who want to lose their virginties. Lots of "Damn girl, your body is hot as shit!" (it's not) Lots of, "You must be a professional writer, that's better than anything I've read in penthouse!" And a whole lot of, "Are you for real? There's no way you're real"

Initially I'd be like, fuck yeah I'm real! Those pictures are real, I wrote all that, I thought all that, I want all that. But I guess I'm the same as the porn spam bots. I'm not in DC or New York, and even if I was I just don't have the balls to go through with it.

Why would someone do this? Of course I love the piles of praise and enthusiastic feedback. But surely I'm old enough now that I shouldn't be that excited to learn that the barely literate, the 'roided-up guidos, and the bored mid-life-crisis husbands will respond when I lay it out there. I mean, I could say anything, without a picture or flowing prose, I could just say "21 year old college girls wants to fuck".

A few years ago, like when I was a freshman, I was such a slut but I wasn't really having fun. I would go home with random guys because I was always so thrilled that they wanted me. It took me several months of college to become somewhat discriminating and differentiate between wanting someone and wanting them to want me.

Once I figured this out, I was pretty god for a while. Junior year, I'd flirt shamelessly and make out with someone at a party, only to laugh and run away when they asked me to leave with them. But that didn't really cut it, cause I'd still end up going home by myself.

Playing with Craig's List is like that. I have such good intentions, I just want to see what will happen, read some nice emails. A few, though, start to sound really really good. It's a good thing I have the geographical barrier as a safety net, or I might get myself in trouble.

Staying in For a While

Back at school, I've been very well-behaved. I haven't been going out, or drinking, or smoking, eating like, fish and vegetables every day, going to the gym constantly. I decided to stop being so lame for one night and actually went to a party, looking all leggy and tan and blonde with a water bottle filled with Target Sauvignon Blanc. After a few rounds of flip cup, my bottle of wine, and a variety of shots, I ended up across the street and somehow wrapped up in a very sexy boy.

How does this shit happen? It seems to be independent of my intentions, circumstances just align that way, a perfect storm of looking good, having just the right kind of buzz, and that random burst of flirtatiousness. Where does this come from? Do I have no self control? We just kept making out, and then ended up in his car. In retrospect, it wasn't very secluded, but once I got started I couldn't stop. (I'm really bad at making out without kicking it up to a higher level.) My hand wrapped around his dick, and once you do that there's no going back. I'm hooked.

"I want to take you somewhere....tell me where to take you." For some reason, everything this boy said was making me want him. He grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. "I really wanna fuck the shit out of you." And see, for some reason, that killlled me. He must have realized it was turning me on to an irrational degree, cause he said it about 4 times between the party and my house, as I was half directing him but unable to get off his dick. This boy was addictive, everything I did got more and more of a reaction, and I'm a sucker for positive feedback.

When we get to my house, I see the flashing red and blue lights out of the corner of my eye. I straighten up and the cop comes over to the window. "You made some wrong turns, are you lost? Have you been drinking?" He takes my boy away as I look on, stunned, thinking, 'but I want you to fuck the shit out of me!' I figure out that that's not happening and I decide I should cut my loses and get my drunk as inside my house.

No such luck. Blocked by the woman cop! "Have you been drinking?" I figure it's best not to lie. yes. "How many drinks?" "3 or 4?" "We're gonna need you to take a field sobriety test." This is where I went wrong, I should have said no, I should have not brought my ID with me, I should have not given her my ID. I failed the standing on one foot test (it's hard, ok?) and I blew a 1.85. Awesome.

"Officer, this is my apartment, I'm about to go inside. I'll be 21 in 2 weeks, I don't have anything on me, I'm about to go home and go to bed"
"But you're outside, you stepped out of the car, of your own free will. You're under arrest for being drunk in public and underage possesion of alcohol" I'm handcuffed and pushed into a car with a little more force than I thought was necessary.
"Are we going to the police station?"
"No missy, I'm taking you to jail!"
"Shit, really?"
"Yes, really."

We drive for like 40 minutes, I can't stop talking, mostly I'm telling her how bad I feel for the poor boy who thought he was just just getting some road head and some good hard boning. I didn't say that, although I thought about it. "You see, if he was swerving it might not have been cause he was drunk, it might be because he looked about to blow a load all over his steering wheel." I at least had the presence of mind not to add Lewd Behavior to my list of offenses.

At the jail they take all my shit, they take my hair out of the braids and won't let me have my hair tie. I look disasteous. She asks for my earrings. "I'm not wearing earings" "Yes, you are." "Oh yeah, these! I'll get em back right? I love them" Yeah I'm a little drunk. She makes me wear a giant smock thing, with some comments about my revealing outfit. Bitch it's like 85 degrees at night, and I look hot as shit. They take mug shots and send me to a room with some other derelicts. We are not to talk to each other. after 2 hours we're each locked in seperate cells with a seatless toilet and a bench. It's the coldest room I've ever been in. They let us out at 11 am to get some water. They keep me there till 4. I got 3 new zits and no sleep. I never saw the sexy boy, I don't know what they did to him but it's breaking my heart that he's got an underage DUI because of me.

The Agent Provocateur sale has started.
I really shouldn't buy things I can't afford.
I don't think I can help myself...

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

Gratuitous All-Nighter

I don't have that much work. Just a paper on reasons adolescents and young adults make bad decisions. I know, right? I didn't pick that to be ironic, it sort of turned into that. The conclusion seems to be that you're going to end up like your parents. I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do.

I actually used to think my parents were really smart and made good decisions, but watching them do this separating thing, I don't know, at least now I feel like every asinine thing I've done isn't my fault, I was raised by morons.

My dad married this girl out of college, they were engaged for a year or two while he was a grad student and he was teaching undergrad classes and fooling around with his students while she lived at home. He married her and that worked out for a little while and then fell apart.

Then he met my mom. She had recently had me, and my biological dad had left and moved to Japan under circumstances I don't understand. I'm scared to ask; it will only make me feel awful, and if she wanted to tell me she would. My (step)dad is still married to the girl from college and starts to move in on my mom, who is abandoned with a Baby Sarah. I suspect this whole rescue-fable which my mom feels she deserves after the blows she's had and my dad feels he's redeemed for cheating on and then discarding his wife. They get married and drink a lot of wine and have a baby and move back to the east coast.

My dad's ex girlfriend from high school looks him up through one of those ads on the Internet, she'd heard about him winning an award at an alumni event she attended because she still lives a mile away from that high school and never went to college. She's really impressed with his success and his money and all his nouveau riche grandeur (unlike my mom who is actually just as smart as him and will remind him every chance she gets) and she's between husbands or something so she starts sending him flowery emails about being each others' First Loves, how they were Meant To Be.

I'm sure it's not like, her fault. Nobody cheats on their wives if their marriage is going well. Actually, no one would get caught cheating if their marriage is going well. You obviously need to want to get caught. It's really classic, there are lots of books about it and my mom bought them all and leaves them on every end table and coffee table in sight. (we get it, you can read, you're smarter than her) When she first told me about it, she said, "I don't understand...she's not even educated!" Yeah she never corrects him on his interpretation of an NMR spectrum or calls him out for not understanding viscosity measurements as well as she does or explains something to him, he always gets to be smarter.

So now he's addicted to feeling like the intellectually superior benefactor like he was addicted to feeling like the altruistic hero and this time it's not as endearing when he says he can't be reasoned with, that it's true love and no one else understands. I'd like to think I would know better but the research suggests...not so much

Is poor decision making in adolescents influenced by their parents or their peers? I should really work on that paper.

I had a Britney Spears Moment and cut off all my damn hair. Well, about 2 inches of it. And I figured, hey I can do an edgy layered thing right? I look like a dykey soccer mom who got lost in the woods for a month. Or like Mrs. Brady. Or Brenda from Six Feet Under.

I blame Bravo for this. I watch that horrible show Shear Genius, and I think, if these retards can cut hair than I can, right?

I pity the poor stylist who I will soon ask to fix this mess. I better give them a big ass tip.

I'm losing my mind and I think it's cause I'm boring now. I don't drink or smoke or fuck inappropriate people or stir up drama or black out at clubs or do lines of adderal in the library so I guess I need some other outlet for asinine impulsive behavior. At least I didn't actually buy that blonde dye I had in my hand the other day. Maybe I'll manage to pull of a great short haircut, look all together and grown up (haha). Or maybe I'll just look like a dude.

I don't care for Ecstacy

I think E is a little over-rated. I used to think it would be such a perfect drug for me, fascilitating slutty hedonistic behavior so well, but I didn't plan on like, looking for it because it sounded so bad and taboo, not an everyday drug like weed or coke. Also people had told me that if I had sex on Ecstacy I would never have an orgasm again. This scared me when I was like, 16, and they were relatively hard to come by, but later I was like, bitch please, I think I have it under control, thanks.

My ex boyfriend Will offered it when we were hanging out one night. We'd been broken up for a while and were getting back into being friends, which would turn into sex soon enough. This was like our third time around. We're sitting on a bench and his skeezy dealer friend walks by. Will puts is arm around me and says, "Hey John to you have any E?" John looks back and forth at us. He hates me. 'For two? yeah" Wil asks me if I want to. and offers to pay. It's so unsmooth and obvious it's almost endearing. "Yeah but I'm not going to have sex with you." Will gets 10 points for not laughing out loud. "uh yeah....ok."

Our shit was in powder form. Reliable sources have informed me that this means it's good, but that shit tore up my nose so I made him give me a ritalin to chase it with.

As we started making out I fell back into sex-with-Will mode very thouroughly. You know how when you hook up with someone you used to be familliar with, but haven't had in a while, it takes you a little while to remember what to do with them, exactly? It didn't take me very long, maybe because Will is so fucking weird. He used to beg me to smack him in the face when we fooled around, and if I was mad at him I could, but I think I killed the sentiment by saying "omigod I'm so sorry dude are you ok you sure?" One time he was shredding a tire with a knife and when I asked him why he said h was making a cat o nine tails for me to use on him. I think I was wearing a pink polo and pearls at the time, and I laughed my ass off. He really wanted to be tied up and whipped, beaten, fucked in the ass with a strap on, and I truly wanted to be a good girlfriend, I swear, but I just can't.

the best I could do was the standard hair pulling, biting, and scratching when we were fucking, which I doled out in full effect under the influence of E. Later we were doing lines with Paul and Will had not put his shirt back on. He kept walking around, probably oblivious to the vicous clawings all over his back. I tore that kid up, I think I drew blood. He had a scar a week later. I'm almost proud of myself.

But really, the sex, not that good. I gave it 100%, I worked hard, but far from the "best sex i'd ever had", as so many people had said it would be. Not even the best sex I ever had with Will. The high felt more like a combination of whippets and drunkeness, which made me feel a little dissociated, like I was directing myself from on off-screen location. I came but I never got to where I know I could, I didn't feel my head spin, my body didn't fill up and explode, my legs didn't shake, I didn't get a real, thourough release. I could tell that I was done but I felt like maybe I had missed it, like I hadn't been paying attention. Stupid Ecstacy. I guess there are no drugs that go well with sex?

summer time

This is where I will be living this summer. With 100 other students. Just like last year. Across the street there is a grocery store, an ekered, a chinese food place, and a liquor store. We made booze runs like 3 times a week.

It seems inevitable that people would hook up, right? We did, of course, but the only thing worth noting was Rhyan and Nora. Rhyan is unlike anyone I have ever met. He looks like an abercrombie model and he is probably a sociopath. He was truly mean to people (girls) and didn't ease up when it hit a nerve (I swear this guy thrived of off girls' body issues).

On a drunken night he hooked up with Nora. Nora is cute, not gorgeous, she has a preppy body type but not thin (no boobs, flat ass. I'm not criticizing, she looks great in J Crew. She worked there. I'm jealous) But she did that thing that girls do, where she figured now they were going out and that she could expect him to hang out with her most nights, that she could sleep in his bed whenever she wanted, that they would keep hooking up.

I don't think he liked her, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he was hooking up with a girl he didn't like, so rather than back off he just let it come out as nasty comments and mean gestures. He would make fun of the way her ass didn't totally fill out her bathing suit bottom as she was coming out of the pool, in front off their whole group of friends. He would cut her down in big groups, play little tricks on her, just genenrally treat her like crap. She assured me he was different when they were alone.

One night they were playing around and he held her arm and punched her right in the center of her upper arm, over and over. It was the worst bruuise I've ever seen and I've plent of drunkenly acquired bruises. It was black, about 3 inches across, and it lasted more than a week till it turned that sick yellow color. She thought it was great. She wore short sleeves even when we were all wearing sweaters against the air conditioning, she doodled on it at work with a sharpie, drew arrows pointing to it, and showed it to anyone she could. She was proud of it, she thought it meant she was in with his crew.

I thought it was kind of sick, both that he would hit a girl, that hard, and that she would take it so cheerfully. The dynamic was representative of every interaction- Rhyan beat up on her and she took it and thought it meant they were close, that she understood him. It's heartbreaking to watch, I just hope I never end up letting that happen to me.

Maybe this summer will be less theatrical.

Lines

Apprantly wanting something is not the same thing as liking it. This great article in Elle, with a fascinating study on dopamine in rats (Elle - Vogue for science majors!) described how it's so hard to consciously differentiate between the two but they are not nearly as correlated as you'd think.

Coke is exemplary. Not that I don't love the actual high from coke, the way you can feel it in your bloodstream in the front of your face, the way your mouth feels with the powderey residue on your gums, etc, dude you know what I mean. But god, I love the buildup.

Before spring break my friend Paul came to school. He'd dropped out a while ago, he's the friend you have that is your Drug Friend, and he might be the sexiest guy I've ever seen at that school. after talking to him about getting coke, I went to the apartment where he'd be. He was playing guitar for hours in another room, but the time I spent making half-assed small-talk made me so much more excited when he walked in the room.

Paul always wears silky pajama pants and a loose fitting shirt of a simillar fabric in mismatched prints. From the neck up he looks like the Gucci guy, if the Gucci guy was robotripping.

He lets me know he's ready to get in to it. "Do you want to go to your place?" "Um....." my hesitation is not based in that kind of anxiousness about being alone with him. Yeah sure, the Gucci guy is gonna try to get with me. I'm simply embarassed about the state of my room. Nevermind that Paul has been living out of his car.

We end up busting into our respecitve half-gram bags in the apartment of our mutal friends. I make long, impossibly skinny lines; many of them. Between turns we pass around a bowl and a bottle of Jack Daniels and I smile because I love college. Each time, I shake out a small pile of coke and I make 3 razor thin lines along the back of a psych textbook. "Sarah, are you gonna take those lines soon?" Yes, soon, but come on, look how inviting they are! I like to draw out the time between lines. I love thinking about how much I want it before I can have it. I like watching Paul do his lines, too. I like watching Paul light his cigarettes when we go outside for one and I very much enjoy when he, or any beautiful boy, leans in to light my cigarette.

Around 8 am I figure out that I should leave. Stoned as hell, I walk out with Paul and pass him a cigarette. He says, "Thanks, love," in dead-on Jack Sparrow and I hug him goodbye. For a awkwardly long time. And I try to walk away but he pulls me in tighter and runs his hands down my body. He tries to kiss me and I turn my head. (did I mention how sexy he is? wtf?) Maybe it was the weed but I think in some cases it's more fun just to want something.

Wanna be on Top?

I'm so excited for the rest of this train wreck of girls on America's Next Top Model. I'm all over Jael, even though I thought I was going to hate her. I first saw her pictures and thought she was going tobe like cycle 7's Meggggg "Rock and Rollllllllll!!!!" and that girl from Real World who had to leave cause she was 2 punk rock 4 this. She's over the top and manic and can't keep her clothes on and takes great pictures and has yet to be a bitch and she's genuinely excited about the photo shoots and doesn't complain even when she had to do the pro-life shot.

I love her cause she seems very aware of what a ridiculous farce ANTM is. The first thing she said was "We're not curing cancer here!" She started to hang out with Renee and figured out that she was a stupid cunt when Renee told her she was mad at her for being happy.

She comments with things like, "We were practicing our walks, and it was just all so hillarious to me because everyone wanted to be perfect." When Sarah's boobs popped out, "It was very liberating for her, I was glad she got to experience that with me" Jael just wants everyone to know the joy that she knows, they joy of showing off her tits. Jael's got some hot, fierce, editorial naked pics.

But the best thing about Jael is not her stoned voice or her perpetual nudity or her fun pictures, but the fact that she makes fun of Tyra at panel. With a big fake smile and a bobbling head, "You like my photo, Tyra?! Really, Tyra, you like meeee?" "You're calling my name, Tyra, I get to come too?" It's so great to watchc her mock the system from the center of it, I hope she goes far but I also can't wait for her exit interview.

my ex-fake-boyfriend Mark likes to IM me randomly and do that "trip down memory lane" thing that I enjoy so much. He's a good kid, he was the first person to tell me I was hot, so I have some affection for him. He's dumb as a stone; if I didn't get off on attention and if he wasn't so pretty I would have cut him off by now because shit he is so boring.

Mark goes back and forth between "remember that time we..." and "you know what we should do..." I can't beleive how much he remembers about specific instances. "Remember the second to last time we had sex that summer, after the party at the house behind 7 11? like, we went for so long cause we were all drunk. And you passed out like right away lol" yeah man that 15 minutes was epic. Not kidding, this kid told me not to move my hips while we had sex because it made him cum too fast. Same with me being on top. And guys who wanna fuck a girl from behind are "just tryin to be gangsta or some shit."

The other day he asked me, "I never got you off, did I?" wait were you trying to? what kind of sub par Bush-administration-approved sex ed course did you have in high school?!
"Welllll no..."
"Damn why's it so hard to get girls off?"
"Actually I get off pretty easily, I think."
"Haha I don't think so" oh, well if you say so, Mark....

I was making out with him ooutside my building, I'm trying to go home and he keeps kissing my neck and that shit always, always works, so I end up running my hands down his abs to the button of his pants and say "I mean you can come with me and hang out if you want..." He says he couldn't beleive how fast I got my clothes off, and his. I wasn't wasting any time. While we were fooling around I remember wondering why he wasn't making any attempt to eat me out or finger me or anything at all, I was doing everything. I thought, this is an awful lot like high school for someone 2 years older than me!

I hooked up with him some more, thinking he'd get around to it and eventually I gave up but kept hooking up with him because it was easy and there were perks. Giving him head took very little time or effort and he was soo fucking grateful, every time I'd hear a sad story about how his ex girlfriend never would. And his friend Grant was more fun (last I heard, working in the porn industry, took first naked pics of me, and they looked so good I couldn't beleive it was me when I looked at them and deleted them once he passed out) but that was no sleepover thing.

But anyways. Mark is pretty dumb. He can start a sentance with "I loved it when you..." or "I really miss your..." and I start the sentance a little excited but he manages to take the sexy out of everything by sounding like he's in middle school pretending he's an adult.

He told me I looked like two porn stars he'd seen. The first looked not at all like me. Skinny with big boobs and light brown hair but that's it. But at least she was an actual porn star- "Damn, you're fucking Ron Jeremey in this video!" The next video he sent was just some random bloated looking lard ass lobotmized special ed girl who couldn't figure out how to put a dick in her mouth and should never be video taped doing anything, ever. (The idea of Mark and this girl trying to figure out how to fuck at all is actually hillarious. And it's not wrong to laugh, because they aren't retarded, they're just losers) I said "Fuck you I am not nearly as fat as her!" "Well no but your boobs are that big." "they don't look like that! Her tits look like my mom's! ...I think" So I had to send him a few pictures, he seemed cofused. "You are skinny in this picture! I can see yo ribs!" "I told you I wasn't as fat as her!" And then I blocked him because I don't want to talk to someone who would tell me I look like that girl.

More importantly, the video upset me because if someone were videotaping me I sure as hell wouldn't half ass it. Tyra has taught me that you have to commit to whatever you do and find your best angles to hide your flaws and even if you have a gag reflex you model through it.

Never Have I Ever

Some people like Make a Rule or Waterfall, I like Never Have I Ever cause I am always out first. This school is weird. The first never have I ever- "never have I ever used a vibrator" I figure this is like, the one that everyone should drink for, so I put a finger down and reach for my beer. Everyone else is perfectly still, staring at me. "heh... um.. I mean...." "Nope, we saw you, you're not fooling anyone!" I look around at these stunned faces. "Seriously? No one else? Just me? Alright"

The next guy says, "Never have I ever enjoyed taking it up the ass!" All the girls go, "eww gross why would you even say that? Ewwww ASS! Gross!" I'm shifty-eyed but I stay perfectly still and hope that no one looks at me. The guy explains this is a running joke among the cast. You guys call yourselves theater kids?

"Never have I ever made out with a girl"
"Never have I ever had sex in a moving car"
"Does oral count?"
"Yes"
"Never have I ever had sex high"
"Never have I ever done coke"
"Never have I ever had sex in an academic building"

What is this, high school? I'm starting to not feel as bad about my rut, at least I have good stories.

The Real World, Gaithersburg- Science Camp, Season 2?

My application to NIST summer research 2007 is in. This week I wrote up my little personal statement about all the research I want to do, trying to make myself sound like a respectable person.

They did have fantastic fascilities, I had a great advisor and I worked in a beautiful brand new building and I had all these fun instruments to play with. And I did fucking good work.

We lived in a hotel with a pool and 75 other college kids and free wine and beer Monday-Thursday 5-7. Seriously, come back from work, free beer and drunk hot tub antics, Friday could be pong all night, Saturday by the pool and DC clubs at night, more laying out all Sunday... Couldn't' ask for anything else.

At the same time, I've never been so tense and anxious about social situations in my life, we were so overly self-involved and together to the point of being incestuous . I've never had that kind of omnipresent drama, with emails at work as our confessionals. We'd write back and forth all day trying to come up with more clever insightful ways of describing what had happened the night before. High school wasn't this bad.

I don't know I'll get in again, with my GPA as it is, but I don't know if I can handle that shit again. The last month, I pretty much stopped caring and I thought, well I'm leaving soon, I can do whatever I want, I can black out at a nightclub and I can smoke a bowl in the parking lot and I can fool around with the token lesbian from Smith and I can make out with my roommate's crush in front of her and I can get in fights that end violently and I can wake up in other people's rooms and I can go to work drunk and I can go to work hungover ... all the while drunkenly giggling, "oooh we work for the government, y'all...."

We used to joke that there was no way they could pay us that much and pay for our rooms and fund our research for the little use we were. We must be a social experiement, or a reality tv show in the making, we're the less sexy Laguna Beach. We party harder though.

well it's nice to feel wanted?

Back in the day (fall '05), Will and I hung out with a his best friend and his girlfriend, who was great to hang out with and one of the few decent girls I've met here, but sort of a shit show and admittedly would make a hellish girlfriend. When they had a high drama, intense, blog-aggravated break up, the guy decided he hated me because I was on his ex-gf's side. Or whatever. Since then he de-friended me on facebook, wouldn't respond or look me in the eye if I passed him and said hi or if he was with a friend would say something passive-agressively mean and threatening as they walked by. Is undeniably a mysoginist.

Got an IM from him today;

him: do you do chicks?
me: lol why?
him: my gf is bi and I'm looking for chicks to join us for some fun some time
me: that's pretty sweet for you
him: so do you swing that way?
me: I have but I'm not really into it
him: are you into any of the following: bdsm, anal, double penetration?
me: haha are you doing a survey?
him: just seeing if there is anythign you'd be into
me: nah not really
him: alright, sorry for bothering you
me: no problem
me: good luck finding someone

I wanted to say, "Mmmm yeah, I totally do girls. I've been dying for a girl, I wanna do that again soon. I was hoping I'd find some other couple who'd be into that. And to your second question, yes, all of the above. But you? Not so much. You're a cunt" Would that have been horribly bitchy, or appropriately so, considering what a douche he'd been to me? I was polite. How lame.

I don't doubt that he still hates me, but I don't think any amount of vicodin and ecstacy or any degree of a manic episode could make me not hate myself. And seriously, does he think I would answer such questions for him?

It's so unfortunate that the only appealing threesome is the random kind or the guest star kind (just not this situation, obviously. Other couples I know, however....) Props to this girl for agreeing and seemingly having such a good attitude. His old girlfriend was genuinely into girls. I woulda done it then, although more to hook up with her than with him (what?) She brought a girl back to his room with him, and then locked him out while they hooked up. Burn.

Victoria's Secret is the one that took sexy away

I can't stand it anymore; I'm never going back. Everyone knows I love lingerie but VS makes me hate it. Mostly because I hate the futuristic seamless, technologically advanced gel-filled implant-imitating fabric-developed-by-nasa crap.

They do have a few pretty soft lacey bras but not many, and not for me. My experience is always the strange alien-like stiff bra that holds exactly the same shape when it's on the floor as when I'm wearing it. And they don't respond well to movement. Laying around in bed is not what they're designed for, they seem cofused if your boobs move a bit or respond to the new realtive dirrection of gravity, and the bra awkwardly keep the same shape it had when you were standing.

And VS seems to think this is great. No seams whatsoever! All one piece, no tags, no texture at all to the fabric, no lace or bows or anything pretty, just this futuristic breast-plate that looks like a plaster cast of a manican. Oh but the worst is when I pick up a bra in the store thinking it's the right size and as soon as I touch it I recoil in disgust because it's all ready filled! They come with breasts! Ew it's soo gross, it's like there are disembodied breasts wrapped in nylon and tied to straps sitting around in the drawer.

I'm making a new rule that I will not buy anymore bras that cannot be flattened. (Trying to pack something like the "secret embrace" or "the body" is like punching those punching bag clowns that keep popping back up)

Went to Gap Body instead. I have a pink bra from there that I love, or I did before the straps started to fray and the dye wore out, but it's lasted longer than that VS shit. I found a really gorgeous blue lace balconnette today, skinny lil straps with bows on them (reminds me of the AP Love range), pretty sheer swiss dot lace in the back with matching perfectly cut boyshorts. The best part was, Gap didn't make the assumption I wanted to add an extra three inches. One layer of lace is perfect, guys. Props.