"curvy girl"

My girl won America's Next Top Model. I don't have a good reason for wanting her to win- her pictures were totally mediocre and her face is so so pretty to the point of being saccharine. Wanting her to win is pure projection, cause I'm about her size (my boobs are bigger and my waist is smaller and my legs are shorter.... but whatever). Whitney rocked it out in that skimpy gladiator outfit, cause her body is hot, she's in shape. They'd had a girl they called plus sized who was just barely bigger than a sample size, and they'd had girls who would actually wear Lane Bryant. To call Whitney plus size kills me, and it must make her wanna cut a bitch, but ANTM wanted to play that card so good for her.

The judges stayed away from even talking about her size as long as they could, but they had to last night. And it came out sounding pretty level headed. "Whitney isn't a big girl, in the real world she's just a hot chick." "Whitney is the girl the man would want in bed with him, but Anya is the girl that makes you want to buy the dress."

Before I even realized it, I understood this, that as a girl with some curves, my body was put to its best use in bed. My body is an obstacle in most of my life- getting jeans to fit over my hips, getting blouses buttoned across my chest, trying to get through kickboxing or running in spite of my boobs. Any article of clothing I've tried on has highlighted the ways in which my body is different from what they intended. Unless it's lingerie. The few times I've found, and splurged on, a bra that comes in 32 DDD, a weight has literally been lifted. But asthetically, my body makes more sense naked. I've thought for a while that this contributes to why I'm often more comfortable naked, why I don't hesitate in my pursuit of sex, even with guys I don't know all that well. I know that's where I perform best, and of course I'd rather someone see me in my element.

This would be perfectly fine, except that along with this message that I'm best suited for sex more than anything else comes with the message that I am no where near the conventional ideal of beauty. It's hard to know that, while most guys you meet want to fuck you, few would admit to it and even fewer would consider you someone who could be a girlfriend.

I think this is the most deplorable personality trait in guys, to want something in a girl when you're having sex that makes you think less of her, whether it's fetishizing big tits while you only date tiny flat girls because you think it makes you look good, or having less respect for a girl for "letting you" do something your last girlfriend wouldn't or for actually wanting to have sex with you. Something is wrong when guys are ashamed of what they are attracted to, when it's such a biologically normal thing.

So I think it's pretty likely that I'll go see the Sex and the City movie. And even though I'll talk a lot of shit about it, I will totally cry. I'm a sucker for the girl movie with the group of friends... Now and Then comes to mind. The real draw is the fantasy of the show was the support group of girlfriends, who always made time for each other and never grew apart or had to move or reached the point where their drastically different values and lifestyles weren't compatible. The fact that these four women who were all, in their own ways, had pretty miserable personalities, and whose charater defects seem like the exact ways to push one another's buttons, just laughed and shopped and talked about boys. I mean, why would anyone be friends with Carrie? I've prefered to look at the four women as dimensions of a person.

But all the noise about how the show allowed women to talk about sex drives me crazy. They didn't really talk about sex so much... they talked about comittment issues and date ettiquiete and meeting men and the stages a relationship goes through and fundemental differences between men and women and reasons a relationship falls apart and break ups and moving on and what we learn from a relationship. It's a stretch to call this "talking about sex." It was mentioned and in the conversation but it wasn't the topic, it was just a joke to make. "A tea bag problem? Oh just breath through your nose hahaha." That conversation was about housekeeping. Whenever there was any topic that wasn't mainstream- Carrie goes out with a bisexual guy, Carrie is sleeping with a guy that wants to pee on her, Samantha has a threesome...it just sort of happend and isn't developed as an idea or as a plot and it's over. Carrie says nope I just can't date that guy because he's bi, and this is never challenged as maybe being narrowminded. She's working toward letting the guy pee on her but then he breaks up with her before it's developed (and that's odd, right? A bisexual guy is a deal breaker but pissing on people is not?)

The show's not about sex. It's about girls, which is fine. I want to call it out on the fact that the girls talk about relationship issues and call it talking about sex, but I can't hold that against them. Talking about sex is fun, but I don't feel the need to talk about it much with my girl friends... it's nice to compare, but I'm sort of done talking about it quickly. A conversation about a fight I had with my boyfriend would just last longer. There is more to talk about. I try not to talk about sex these days cause i just end up talking about how great it is. If it's good there's nothing to talk about. Maybe it's because my girl friends are all very different from me, but I feel like my sex life isn't relevant to them. I don't talk about my research in chemistry with my friend who's an elementry school teacher. I guess I haven't had much in common with any of my friends regarding sex since high school. At that point we were...all in the same situation. Since then any development or learning has been my own, or shared with the guy. Talking about it too much trivializes it and takes away the allure.

the Girl Movie model is really fun and I always enjoy that stuff, but honnestly I can't handle that shit in real life. Yeah the girls spent all their time talking about their boyfriends, but those relationships seemed less important to them than their being part of the group. I've beleived, for quite a while now, that you should never ever take your girl friends' advice about a guy. They can be a sounding board or a support but the advice girls have given me has always been shitty.

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.

An Inspirational Tale

Sometimes I feel like where I am now with S, considering where we started, is an inspirational fable to give hope to hoes the world over

So this girl, she was kinda fucked up, with the Daddy Issues and shit, so she was kind of a slut, she was just trying to have fun without getting to into anyone and she met this guy that thought she was cute and they went out. He tried to treat her like a girl he wanted to date, and she got freaked out cause she'd never seen that outside of a romantic comedy.

So she pulls the classic move where she deliberately fucks up, she fucks this other guy and tells the guy she's been going out with, figures he's gonna want to run away after that, right? But he stays around. Only now she's demonstrated that she'd never be a decent girlfriend and that she doesn't care about him more than just fooling around.

But they keep talking all the time and a few random visits. For the next year they're sorta talking but not really, and she likes him but doesn't have the balls to admit it. Meanwhile he knows he shouldn't be wasting his time with a girl that made it clear from the start that he wasn't a thing to her. As she starts to figure out maybe he is, he's actually dating another girl, a religious one who doesn't put out, but lies about it to keep this girl willing to fool around with him once in a while.

Eventually she figures out that this guy is treating her like shit and backs off. With enough distance, she comes to the conclusion that she's gotta stay away because maybe, just maybe, she can't hook up with this guy without getting 'attached'. And after a while he starts up saying he misses her and that other girl wasn't right for him, that he was trying to be something he's not and he wants to see her again.

And for the first time she tells him what's up, tells him he hurt her, tells him she actually liked him and he treated her like shit and she wanted him and by dating a girl who's obviously wrong for him he just rubs her face in the rejection. And, for the first time not wanting him, she's able to tell him, without fear of what he's gonna think of her because he's a fucking cunt anyways, she tells him that she can't just hook up with him without having feelings for him. She thought she could, but she was wrong. She says she can't see him unless it was for real, unless he actually cared about her. She thinks, this has got to be an even better exit strategy than fucking another guy. But no. He says ok. Maybe he actually wants to be with her.

But she's obviously scared and she's been telling herself to stay the fuck away. "I made a mistake" he says. Yes you fucking did, you fucker, she thinks. "I didn't know what I wanted." Hmm...yeah that's hard for me too actually, she thinks.

And as she thinks about, she thinks how she's made some mistakes, how maybe if she hadn't screwed that other guy just to push him away, maybe things would have gone differently, maybe if she'd stepped up and admitted to herself that she might actually care about him, if she hadn't assumed he was gonna hurt her if she let him, if she knew herself then well enough to know that this guy was, in fact, what she wanted. Maybe, in spite of being so together and almost supernaturally smart, it took him a while to figure it out too. She thinks about the things she's changed in herself, about her fuck ups that she's learned from. She thinks, if I can fix my shit, shouldn't I give him the chance to do the same?

She's scared as shit but she's thinking, the worst that can happen is that she totally falls for him and then gets fucking destroyed when he leaves her and feels worse than she'd ever imagined a person could feel. That will suck. But after that, what else would be scary? Perhaps the reason people do this is that it's worth it. So, not without some struggle, she lets herself get close to him and has to find out that not only is he perfect, he cares about her and takes good care of her. Even though she reacts to cancelled visits as though they were threatening breakups, feels edgy around the interim girlfriend-now-just-friend she lost to once before, and sometimes in bed starts crying for no reason, he never for a second stops being wonderful and loving and perfect.

And somehow he just gets better, and she starts to realize how lucky they are. She can't believe that the best sex she's ever had gets better every time, that they like each other more and more, that something so good for her can feel like an indulgence.



For most of college, I thought I would try to have fun without getting too attached to anyone. I actively avoided getting to know anyone I hooked up with. And every time I did something in that pattern, I thought I was digging myself deeper in a slut hole. I had conceded defeat and thought no one could really want me. But now I think at least this one case of the Reformed Slut is possible, I'm sure there are more. And I think everyone should be so jealous. In my cynicism I thought no one could have a relationship this good; I'd have laughed if you'd told me I would, especially this young. I never thought I'd be able to have this.

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"

Wasted Wednesdays

Hey, remember that time I got arrested? I do. In order to get that expunged from my record, I have this fun little "Substance Abuse" class every Wednesday night. It sounds like it should be miserable, but more often then not it just cracks my shit up.

The first class, I just sat there with a bitchface on and my arms crossed, trying to keep from arguing that I shouldn't even be there. But by now (three classes in) I just take it in stride. The girl teaching it is like, my age. She's not too psyched to be there either, and her knowledge of what she's supposed to "teach" us is pretty marginal. For example, she describes the effects of a hangover as the opposite of the effects of alcohol. "So, you know, if alcohol makes you relaxed, after that wears off you'd feel...what?" "anxious?" "Yeah, and if alcohol decreases your reaction time, a hangover would...?" "Increase your reaction time?" "Right" Wait, what?

My favorite thing about this class is how a phrase can mean something so different in there. A "really fun binge drinking activity" does not mean Flip Cup, it means a handout. Last night, playing Drug Jeopardy, I got to say things like, "I'll take Ecstacy for $100"

I like to have fun with the class a little bit. Sometimes I'm, just obnoxious and point out the fundemental problems with the research presented, sometimes I just ask retarded shit, like how to make crystal meth. I also enjoy fucking with stupid kids in the class. We have all these little team exercises, and I want to lose every single one. "What are two long term side effects of ecstacy?" Um, it's totally overrated? My group huddles to caucus but no one can come up with anything. I can't resist. "You know, I heard, if you have sex on ecstacy you can never have an orgasm again!" The other girl's eyes light "Ooooh that's a good one!" She raises her hand "Umm erectile...I mean, impotance?" The teacher looks at her like she's retarded. I sit back and smile. The girl looks at me accusingly. Bwah ha ha. "Dude, I didn't say that." Some guy raises his hand, "So for girls it would be like, menstrual....stuff?" Wow that's not even close. The whole class sort of falls apart and I am so proud of myself.

I wish she would ask something like "What's everyone doing this week?" so I could tell her I'm going to a wine tasting tonight and am clearly too cool for this class.

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?