And Yes...

I need to stop reading other people's comments about their older virgin friends and how weird it is. Or worse, how disturbed they must be to still be a virgin after 30. Just because you don't do something everyone else does doesn't mean you are totally f**ked in the head. Ok yes, obviously I have some issues, thus the reason for starting this blog...I'd rather be an anonymous therapy patient than an actual one, but I'm not frigid nor a prude nor that messed up (I think. I'm not trying to make my issues bigger than they really are. I'm pretty sure they can be overcome.) And yes on the flip side of that, there are older virgins out there who are some or all of these things, but blanketing us all with the stigma is doing nothing for my insecurity about it.

I don't really see my virginity as something I'm hanging onto, because I'd gladly lose it if I could find someone I wanted to lose it to. And yes I hope it'll be someone I'm in love with, but at this point, I'll settle for someone I have chemistry with and who makes me feel comfortable (which I have to say again is odd that I haven't come across someone like this. I'd say I was comfortable with myself and my body, so I don't think that's the issue. Am I mixing up comfort with safety? If so, why am I so obsessed with feeling safe?) I'm only afraid of sex so far as I've never done it so I don't want to look like a total ass when I do do it (and of course the whole getting pregnant thing. And yes I have heard there's no really right way to do things, it just kind of happens. It's of no consolation to someone who's never been even close to it almost kind of sort of happening.)

Older men seem to flock to me (perhaps because I don't view them as threatening in any way and am myself and comfortable around them) but the ones my age are either scared of me or assume I already have a boyfriend or I don't know what. But all of these things combined have left me in an inexperienced state both mentally and physically when it comes to men. And YES I'm going to blame my mother yet again for all her anti-men type messages growing up which lead to my eventual avoidance of the whole relationship situation. The situation that everyone and their uncle seems to not only have experienced, but experienced many times with many people in many ways.

All I know is, if you met me on the street you'd probably think I was just another NYC chick with a string of broken hearts (not a self-description) behind her. If after getting to know me a little better, outside of romantic relationship revelations, would you suddenly think I was mental if you somehow found out I was a virgin? Everyone has issues. This is just mine.

I don't know why I'm trying to justify my normalness. It only enables the stereo-typers to raise their eyebrows and nod their heads. Considering this blog is pretty much a one sided conversation, maybe I'm just trying to convince myself I'm not a lost cause.

Maybe one day I'll even figure out how to help me help myself.

Still Undecided

I still really can't decide how I feel about this. Clearly I'm bothered by it, but why? Am I just jealous that she's able to date all these guys without having to do any work? Or does it absolutely irk me that both she and the magazine are making a huge deal out of her virginity? Why does it have to be so weird that a 29 year old hasn't had sex? Ok, the fact that this blog is solely dedicated to my own virginity aside, it is not the most pressing thing in my life. Nor is it it a priority to find the 'one' to lose it to, though truth be told it is on the list. It just has a written next to 'one' instead of the. At least for the moment. I know guys who may not end up being for me can be good (as in genuine). I just have to relax enough to find one.

I somehow got into another conversation with my mother about having babies. She said you have to find someone soon I want a grandchild. I said, well what if I got pregnant but didn't have a man? I don't think that would be very responsible. What would I do? She said, well you could still do it. You could come live with me.

I think I'm going to vomit.

Virgins From Hell 2: Electric Boogaloo*

Friday, 2:43pm, Excerpt

...
JJ: i actually lost a few hundred and was depressed in ac and decided to call her at like 3am
JJ: she didn't return the call b/c we were hardcore for awhile
Queen Vee: she was on another booty call.
JJ: haha maybe. but we kept each other around for awhile b/c of the sex
JJ: the best is she came to nyu and i went out with a bunch of friends
and then this other girl i was banging showed up at the bar. I had to sneek Vicki out
Queen Vee: you are such a player
JJ: no no. it was all college. man, i miss those days
...

I usually log off before he can ask me about one of my sexual exploits. He would wet himself the second he found out I haven't had any. check that, he'd have his pants around his ankles asking if he could be my first. Nothing like having a younger guy friend tell you stories about how dumb and slutty his ex-girlfriend was. The more I hear, the more likely I am to become one of these:


*Starring Queen Vee!
HA!!

I, Virgin, Do Thee Wed

Well...the wedding I didn't want to attend happened last week, thus my lack of weekly wanking about virginity, and now I probably have enough for a book. Heh heh. But I'll try to make a long story short because I don't even want to write it all, let alone read it.

So it begins with my mother calling to tell me that L broke up with her boyfriend. Forgive me if I'm repeating myself...I said, "so...?" I knew exactly where she was going but I wanted to hear her say it. She says, "So that means she won't have a date for the wedding." "And that affects me how?" "I'm just saying..." "Mmmhmm."

Oh mom. I know she only wants me to feel better, but having another single girl there really doesn't change my situation or how I feel about it. Anyway, come to find out 5 minutes after arriving that her sister A just broke up with her boyfriend and was there alone- L was already on to her next boyfriend who stood within 2 feet of her all evening. Zing!

The wedding itself was fine, pretty traditional (aside from the non-church ceremony both parents were furious about) but nice to catch up with some childhood friends I haven't seen in a while. Only once the entire evening was I asked the question I hate:

Auntie M: So where is your escort?
Auntie M's Daughter, sitting beside her boyfriend: MOM!
QV: Eh, there was no one suitable enough...
Auntie M: See? No one suitable enough.

And then she moved on to wherever she was headed. I was surprised not more of my parents' friends asked, but I think because my parents are no longer up here that they were more interested in talking to them than to me for once.

Both A and L are strikingly pretty, at least I think so. I mean, no one can deny they are pretty but every time I see them, usually after a few years have passed, I am reminded just how beautiful they are. Like me, their father is not American which attributes to their exotic features. Anyway, the point of this is a ridiculous one but I'm going to make it anyway because like every woman I have days of low esteem and this made me feel better.

After the wedding my mother and I talked about how everyone looked, and I said how pretty those two in particular looked. She said, as every mother is required to say:

Mom: You were prettier.
QV: Thanks mom, I relieve you of your duty now.
Mom: Everyone else said so too.
QV: Oh? And just who is this everyone you speak of?
Mom: Four people told me! Auntie M, Auntie E, Auntie J and...Uncle D. (All my parents friends are aunties and uncles.) I didn't hear any of them tell Auntie N (A and L's mom) that.
QV: You are too much. What, did you attach yourself to Auntie N's ass all night listening?
Mom: I'm not lying.

As utterly juvenile as it is, there's something to be said for hearing about how pretty you are when you've been standing next to two of the prettiest girls you know all night.

Ok last story. In the car home I also learned some things that were none of my business, but the groom's mother has no filter on what should and should not be shared so I found out. She told my mother pretty much every last detail about her son's personal life along with all the wedding details, which my mom went on to share with me. I doubt my mother would have said anything if I hadn't started the conversation, but whatever. It really was innocently started. Before the wedding I remembered her telling me that they lived together. When I talked to the groom at the wedding I caught up on the details. It was one of those things where telling me something fit whatever point she was trying make even though it wasn't true, and when I called her on it later she would deny ever saying it.

QV: You know, they don't live together.
Mom: I know. He's there now and she's moving in after.
Then it transitioned but for the life of me I can't remember how.
Mom: Auntie D told me everything. About the wedding, about the bride's father...they're waiting until they're married.
QV: (utter disbelief) What.
Mom: That's what they told her. They're waiting until they're married.
QV: No way. That's bull.
Mom: That's what she said they told her.
QV: I don't believe it.

But I kinda do. I can't imagine why they would wait, they've been together for like six years, but there is something that rings true about it. He would have no cause to tell his mother anything, let alone that he was waiting because he told her to mind her business when she tried to involve herself in the wedding plans. I spent a lot of time growing up in that house and communication about things like that was so not part of the scene. I can't imagine he was trying to make her happy by telling her that. I also just can't imagine them having this or any other conversation like it to begin with so what do I know. Maybe he really is just a good little Catholic boy (who for some reason didn't want a Catholic ceremony...).

I almost said, well I'm not waiting! at the end of that exchange but A) none of my parents' business and B) I think my dad might have had a heart attack. Not because I'm planning on having sex before marriage, but because I'm so adamant about it. Though knowing my dad, he may believe I've already slept with someone. I mean, I always picture him as the naive father who believes his daughter is a princess, but he's the one who surprised me by thinking I had started drinking before I actually had. So why should this be any different? Course, God doesn't have anything to say about drinking whereas sex is a different story. And I'm sure he's also thinking, she's almost 30. She's had to have it by now.

Uh.

Anyway, my point with this whole damn post is that for once I was not the only virgin in the room. Yay me!

Course, 12 hours later the title would again be mine. Perhaps 24 if they were tired from dancing and drinking all night.

"Why Did You Spread Those Vicious Lies?"

"Cuz you didn't spread those vicious thighs."
-Strangers With Candy, "The Virgin Jerri"

I had a dream a few nights ago that I was pregnant, 9 months from the size of me. Then like a movie scene, it cut to me holding the baby in my arms as it gazed up into my eyes. Freaky thing was, the baby looked exactly like I did when I was about 2 years old. Suddenly it hit me that I had to go to work and had no where to leave her, so I brought her with me. At the end of the day I looked around but couldn't remember where she was. Then I realized she was already in the van, ready to go home. I got in and turned away for a moment, and when I looked back she was gone. I started crying and yelling that someone had kidnapped her. I woke up with tear filled eyes.

Becoming pregnant is a gigantic fear of mine. Well, one among the many obviously, but it's pretty loomy sometimes. It's just one of those things that is stuck in the recesses of my brain and no matter how hard I prove it (with known facts and statistics) to be a ridiculous fear, it remains heavy and foreboding. Hello, birth control! condoms! what have you! I still believe that I will get pregnant despite it all. The fact that the percentage is minute and usually due to user error, that's enough for me. And I can't handle it. I can't handle the thought let alone the actuality. (This is all assuming I'd have to do it alone because the guy I chose to have sex with will not be interested in sticking around.)

It's like...a phobia. I'm sure there's a name for it. There's a name for every fear out there....

Sweet sassy there is. It's called Tocophobia. Though, that's more the fear of actually being pregnant. My fear is more, how can I care for a kid if I can't even handle myself? Let's see if there's a name for that...Automatonophobia- fear of ventriloquist dummies, Consecotaleophobia- Fear of chopsticks, Mycrophobia- Fear of small things, Novercaphobia- Fear of your step-mother, Phronemophobia- Fear of thinking (for real?).

Possibilities: Pedophobia- Fear of children, Genophobia- Fear of sex, Hominophobia- Fear of men...

The closest I can find is Atychiphobia- Fear of failure. And I guess getting pregnant before I'm ready would be a huge failure for me because I wouldn't know what to do except crawl back to mom in the hopes that she'd help. Maybe it's another control issue, as in looking back on my life I've always had some kind of control over what was next. Am I still so much a child myself? How can that be? Or is it because I don't want to do it alone? I want to give my child what my parents gave me? A happy childhood, albeit an over-protected one? One in which once grown they can say, "Mom, you f**ed me up in your own way but I'm still a good person and I love you?" At any rate it's something I can't provide because I have way too many non-happy-wtf days myself, lost in thought as to why the girl who is caring for me is doing such a sh*tty job.

Where was I going with this? Oh right, reason number 13,240 why I haven't had sex yet.

Maybe if I actually starting taking birth control I might feel differently. And maybe I'll get a lobotomy and won't feel anything at all. And maybe, just maybe, fate really does exist and will intervene at any moment. Like now.

Or now.

Or how 'bout now?

Ah screw it. Who wants an absolute neurotic virgin girlfriend who has trust issues?

Now don't crowd me boys. If you've had a vasectomy (and put some swimmers on ice) I might even look in your direction twice.

I Suspect My Expectations

"Hold me as long my body's shaking
Hold me as long I'm anticipating
Hold me as long your woman's waiting
Don't be shy I'm inviting you, I'm inviting you
So lay your hands your hands on me"
-Beth Hart

This song makes me want strip off my clothes. If you are in the need of a soulful rock and blues voice, you must check out Beth Hart. She will rock you inside out.

I've come to the (brilliant) conclusion that I will never be able to ask someone to lay their hands on me if I never knowingly risk disappointment. It sounds odd...like I should have said hurt. Maybe I mean both. I don't know. But I realize that I've been living under the "no expectations, no disappointments" rule, and it extends far beyond what it should.

I had a performance of a kind a few weeks ago and I was genuinely surprised by the number of my friends who actually showed up. There were a few I allowed myself to expect to be there, safe in the assumption that I would not be disappointed, but most I had already made excuses for because I knew they had other engagements, early mornings, etc. I think I could go so far as to say I felt honored...yes I know it's dramatic and most likely just my overblown sensitivity acting up, but I was thrilled to have them all there, and all there for me.

So am I underestimating my own value in their lives or am I underestimating their abilities as good friends who would of course come out to support me?

I don't want to play victim and cry about how many times I've been disappointed in (hurt by?) people, because in reality I've only been burned a few times. Granted Jean is an extreme case, she was not the first, nor the last I imagine though apparently I'm doing my best to try to make it so. Oh, too late. And I do still have people in my life who I love but who I can actually now predict when they will disappoint me. I'm doing my best to keep the expectation low and accept them for who they are, forgetting things that are important to me a part of it, because I know everyone has their own issues and I am far, far, far from perfect. I can always tell when I begin to expect because it stings.

When friends of friends or acquaintances ask something of me this rule comes in handy because I know if the situation was reversed I would most likely end up on the losing side. Perhaps that's a dark view of people but I've experienced just enough to know it's true. I would give my good friends the shirt off my back, but anyone else would just get a sideways glance and I don't feel guilty because I can say if I was on fire they wouldn't stop to piss on me. Part of this, and this is going to sound completely backward, is that I trust too easily. I always want to believe the best in people, despite all the cynicism I just spewed, or that at the very least they are not out only for themselves. So I don't usually let people in and end up trusting them to my own detriment. But then again, what about all the suspicion I've blubbered about being a part of the reason I can't meet anyone?

(shrug) You got me. I want to believe the best in people and am extremely suspicious of them at the same time. How f**ed is that?

If I'm honest I can make the distinction. New people I meet who are going to be part of my life through necessity, whether it be at work or socially, I need to believe that in their dealings with me they would only treat me with the same courtesy I give them, the Golden Rule so to speak- (i.e., there was no reason for my old boss to be condescending or withholding of opportunity because I had done nothing to her, and yet she was.) There's where the expectation usually gets me in trouble. New people can be men or women, and I've been right and wrong about them. And it has nothing to do with judging character...or maybe in trying not to judge it does.

New people I meet who seem to want to be a part of my life, that is express interest, I am extremely suspicious of because I know it's only a matter of time before they'll want something from me. These new people are usually men. Surprise! (Though not that many have tried.) Whether it be 2 minutes or 2 years, it's just so easy for me to judge their motives as being shallow or selfish. (That sounds awfully harsh, but if you haven't noticed I have some issues with sex.) Sad isn't it?

So basically I want to believe the good in everyone but am fully aware of how naive that is. All the while I'm doing my best to keep from falling into the trap by suspecting everyone (except friends with whom I apparently have varying degrees of expectation), I still end up falling into it and being disappointed. (Hurt! Who am I fooling?) But that's life right? The only thing I'm doing is walking into the traps blindfolded, so why don't I do it why my eyes open? Maybe it'd be easier to deal with after a while? I'm still a sensitive sap, but the disappointment doesn't hurt like it used to (which actually may or may not be a good thing. Am I numbing myself in the process?)

I'm just saying, an off switch placed somewhere behind my left ear would do me wonders.

Predicting The Past

I wonder what it would have been like for me if I had been of marrying age in the fifties. I'd probably be married to D with two or three kids by now. At least, I'd like to think since he's the only one I liked at the same time he liked me. Not that I would know but I feel like that may have been enough for a lot of people back then.

At any rate, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore.

Isn't it ironic?

Eyes On The Prize

So it was only a matter of time before I got around to blogging about that 29 year old virgin all over Jane magazine's website. I am still trying to formulate an opinion about the whole charade. To be fair I haven't read through everything...I only made it through a couple he said/she said blogposts about the dates before becoming dangerously close to shooting myself.

I mean, in terms of meeting men it's a brilliant scheme. Get a couple hundred people to send in potentials, have a magazine screen out the obvious mental cases and pay for every date, then have the reading public vote on which guy you should go out with...Voila! There's no work required of her in finding suitable men to get to know in 5 hours or less. Plus absolutely no pressure because she has a new date tomorrow night. No guilt for hurt feelings because all the Jane readers and others drawn to the ridiculousness will be in on it. He's just a fool if he thinks he'll get away unscathed for admitting he feels there's a "connection" and she doesn't.

On the other hand...ew. Does she honestly think she's going to find a guy she "connects" with when the first person every date meets is a 'handler' (fancy word for production assistant of a just graduated college and this is their first paying job kind) who sticks a mic pack down his pants and leads him to a specified place of meeting? Oh they are all so honest in their blogs about how the people swarming around them listening to every word is only slightly distracting, but after a while it's fine and they can't wait to go out with her again to really get to know her.

Vomitous.

It's the bachelor(ette) all over again, only it's about her being a virgin rather than her need to get married because she's in her late twenties, single and childless. Which put in those terms actually kind of makes it acceptable. Here's to hoping she's only in it for the sex. I will laugh my ass off if the payoff post reads:

"Chad was so charming and cute! We hit it off immediately and the connection was hot! After our dinner at Nobu which we could barely get through without touching one another, we cabbed it back to my apartment where I threw him down and made him make a woman of me. Three times! Thanks Jane! I never thought I'd finally find my fuckbuddy!"

Two months and counting...

The Devil's Premarital Playground

My parents raised me Catholic. Or rather, my father did as my mother never attended services. Every Sunday up through college I went to either church or CCD, which I cannot for the life of me remember what it stands for other than Sunday school. When I got a little older they moved CCD to a weekday evening, probably just to inconvenience the parents who had to chauffer their kids everywhere. There are exactly three things I remember about my nine years of actual lessons, where I allegedly learned about God.

1. An African American teacher I had who had a voice like Maya Angelou, fluid and passionate and full of warmth. What she taught though, I haven't a clue.

2. After our hour was up when I was really young they would lead us to the cafeteria where we would meet up with our parents and eat cookies.

3. An awkward bow legged teacher whose toes pointed inward when he walked. Out of all the classes I attended, there is one specific class of his that I will never forget. He said, "Ok we're going to play a game, everyone stand up. If you believe premarital sex is ok go to that side of the room. If you don't then stay over here."

Being all of about ten years old, I wasn't exactly sure what premarital sex was. I'd never heard the word premarital. I slowly inched my way over to the ok side since that's where most of the kids were headed, and sidled up to someone I knew. I asked in a whisper what premarital meant and she shrugged. When all was said and done, three quarters of the class of ten year olds apparently thought the sins of the flesh before marriage was just fine.

When he finally said, probably a little shocked, "You all believe it's ok to have sex before you are married?" I was relieved that I had picked the side I really did believe in. I obviously didn't know that much about sex, but it never occurred to me that it was wrong. Perhaps I missed all those sermons. I'm sure we received a stern lecture thereafter about how it was absolutely evil and sinful but like all things forgettable I forget.

What I do remember is that religion was never part of sex for me. I'm not saving myself for anyone. I've just gotten so good at being uncomfortable around men it's easier to avoid getting into a potential sexual situation. I guess I need someone who's willing to keep trying. I know, who has that kind of energy? All I can do is hope someone does. Won't the reward be all the sweeter? For us both?

Who Would I "Do"?

I was fifteen the first time another girl hit on me. One summer evening at sleep away camp (don't they all begin like that?), my fellow campers and I slowly made our way to the communal bunk house. As we sat around chatting an older girl looked at me and said point blank, "Are you a lesbian?" I was caught off guard but collected myself enough to shake my head no. She shook her head and said loudly, "Why are all the cute ones straight?"

I have to admit, I did wonder there for a little while about my sexuality. I've never actually been attracted to a woman, but then again, I've only been attracted to a small number of men. In playing the 'what celebrity would you do' game there are always one or two beautiful women on the list along with all the beautiful men. Fantasizing about (celebrity) men and women were equal for a while, until I actually kissed a few guys and felt the sexual energy of it.

It's pretty easy to fantasize about something I have no fear of ever actually experiencing. I mean, if Vanessa Marcil came up to me and said 'let's get busy', I'd probably respond with 'um...maybe later. I have a stomach ache' and run out of the room even though she's absolutely gorgeous. However, if D said it with the promise that he wouldn't want to marry me I'd give him a strip tease to start us off.

Now the fantasies mostly involve males. And mostly D since I've apparently convinced myself that I'm comfortable with him. When it comes down to it (in academic terms since they are the only ones I know) they're still due to my childlike curiosity about physical pleasure, something I am old enough to know can be satisfied by a number of things. Because I have so little experience, all I can do is wonder.

Now before everyone starts with, you have lesbian fantasies? Get over yourself, you're gay, let me say this: no matter what your sexual orientation, if you haven't at least thought about it you're probably not human. Especially in today's sex sells culture. If you define homosexuality as simply intercourse with the same sex, then anyone who has had a homosexual experience (or mere thought) is gay in your book. If you include love, passion, understanding and promise in relation to intercourse between members of the same sex, well then you're defining homosexuality as a fulfilling relationship between two humans, just as heterosexuality is always assumed to be. You're also a liberal commie like me who wants everyone to be treated the same. But I digress.

Anyway, here's where I introduce the love element. Though I have not experienced romantic love with a male, I know I will. With a female? I have not, nor do I think I will ever.

As I've said before, many people ask when they hear the Jean story if she was in love with me. After we stopped speaking I found out through a friend that she, for whatever reason, admitted to having sex dreams about me. It struck me as rather funny that even though I loved her as my best friend and was forever hanging on her like a monkey, the thought of sex with her never crossed my mind. Maybe she treated me like shit because she was walking around with a perpetual case of blue balls. Ha!

A very close friend of mine who helped me deal with rebuilding myself after Jean, came out to me around the same time. I provided support for her as well and we created a pretty deep bond. Being of a more introverted type, it was only a matter of time before I started to feel a little suffocated by all her praise and support and needed time to myself. Then one day we had the conversation in which she beat around the bush for a while before saying, 'don't make me say it'. She was in love with me. I wanted to so badly to return the type of love she wanted but couldn't. She meant everything to me and I loved her as a friend, but faced with the prospect of sex with her? I knew right then that I could never with her or any other female. It made me incredibly sad and I pulled as far away from her as possible. Famous for shutting down others out, I was true to my reputation.

A year later we were able to re-establish a friendship because the bond we created was so strong. She told me that she mistook what she felt for me as love but was really more of a doctor patient thing where her devotion was due to the fact that I was the first person who had ever fully accepted her as she was. All this was realized after she met her first real love that is. I realized it after we stopped communicating and had had a chance to analyze our friendship.

And so there it is.

What people who know me know- I listen to a lot of female singer songwriters who happen to be lesbians. I am a feminist. I wear big black boots 9 months out of the year. I am mysterious about my sex life.

What anyone who reads this knows- I have the occasional fantasy about women. I am a virgin. I harp on old shit. And what I really want (when not wanting to be left alone) is a man to be part of an equal loving relationship with me...and of course sex me up until my eyeballs roll back.

Perhaps I'm sending mixed messages?

50 Things You Didn't Ask To Know

I find these lists captivating on some blogs so I thought I'd post my own. Plus, I know at least one of you is curious to know more about this virgin. Humor me. 

1. I always have to have dessert. One cookie counts. 

2. I am younger than I look. 

3. I feel older than I am. 

4. I wore braces for 10 months, a retainer for 5 years and my teeth are still crooked. 

5. Though I have been told I have a great smile. 

6. I can't hear anything in a noisy place, but if it's quiet I can hear a pin drop.

7. I was somewhat popular in high school but I still hated it. 

8. The only other thing I regret about college, aside from not having any sexual experiences, is not partying more. 

9. I get nauseous a lot but I've only thrown up three times in my life. 

10. Only one of those times was from drinking. 

11. I have a different allergic reaction to different alcohol. 

12. Not one person I know knows about this blog. 

13. If they should accidentally come across it somehow and read some of my earlier entries they'd totally know it was me. Depending on who it was, I'd either feel incredibly awkward or incredibly curious as to if their opinion of me changed. 

14. I've backpacked through a lot of Western Europe on my own. 

15. Light sleeper is putting it mildly. Ear plugs are my best friends. 

16. Without music I'd shrivel up and die. 

17. I often cry at movies, but will bottle my emotions until the day I explode. 

18. I am very close to my parents though they now live hundreds of miles away. 

19. My anger is a three stop process. 1-quiet low voice 2-loud ranting vulgarity as long as person who has caused my anger is not present 3- laughter at how ridiculous all of it is. 

20. I quit a summer internship while in college because after only one day of organizing their CDs because that's all they had for me to do, I knew I'd be unfathomably bored. 

21. I can wiggle my ears. 

22. I am still computer illiterate when it comes to certain things and didn't realize until last week that my settings didn't allow anonymous comments. 

23. I'd love to be fluent in another language. Two or three even. 

24. I say I'm 5'7" but I'm really 5'6 and three quarters" 

25. #16 is a lie. Without my sense of humor I'd shrivel up and die. Without music I just couldn't function properly. 

26. I used to want to be an actress when I was young. (surprise!) 

27. Now I realize I am an actress sometimes, just not in the way I wanted to be. 

28. One of the top things on my list to do before I kick it is to get my short stories published. 

29. Bread is a staple. Red meat is not. 

30. I think about moving to the west coast or europe all the time. At the moment, I lack the cojones to do it. 

31. I'd rather sleep with a fan on than the AC (granted it's not sub sahara Africa.) 

32. I don't voice my political opinions unless others in the room feel the same way. I do not like to debate politics, mostly because people always end up shouting and insulting one another.

33. That said, I believe G.W. is a puppet and actually consumes oil in order to live. 

34. I usually like tall, lanky dark haired guys, but the occasional tall, lanky blonde makes an appearance. 

35. I'll probably end up with a short, pudgy red head (not that there's anything wrong with that...) 

36. Accents have a profound affect on me. If you are a tall, lanky brunette with an accent I will probably have a crush on you. 

37. TV is an addiction I am able to quit in the summer. 

38. I love a good long rainy day. 

39. My dream job would be to travel the world and get paid to write witty stories about my adventures. 

40. My second dream job = rock star on the lesser side of fame. 

41. I would love to knock a few people upside the head. 

42. I hope to meet a man endeared by my fears rather than irritated (as I am) by them. 

43. I wish I had a cat. 

44. I wish my ex-landlord would stop being a dick and give me back my deposit. 

45. I've never broken a bone. 

46. I've donated a total of 24 inches of hair to a place that makes wigs for children who have lost it to cancer and other disease. 

47. I find the societal expectations of a 28 year old American female to be absurd and yet often find myself pining over not meeting them. It's pretty infuriating.

48. I don't have any desire to live to be 100. 

49. I will run from a fight or any inkling of love every time. 

50. I may be a virgin, but I totally have a place reserved in hell.

To Just Know

In no way am I comparing myself to a woman who has was unjustly incarcerated for 20 years, but this feeling...this is what I want.

"He took my hand in his quite naturally. At once he realized...that I was just a frightened child dressed up as a woman.
I couldn't keep my mind from racing, wondering where all this would lead me. An irrepressible little voice whispered to me not to ask too many questions. He was handsome, young and full of life. Besides, he was so gentle, so normal, that suddenly I no longer felt afraid. With him, I have never been frightened...This was the first time that a man had made me feel...so safe."
-Malika Oufkir, Stolen Lives

I realize it is still idealistic to hope for a man to make me feel that way with just his presence and not his attempt to make it so, but I can't help it. My inner pessimist says I live in a fantasy word. My inner optimist...well it has obviously happened to her, a woman with all the odds against her, so maybe my day will come.

The Dark Side

My father has officially crossed over. He has said a total of four things to me about men during my entire lifetime, the first occurring after I graduated college. The last, about 2 days ago. (I suppose I should mention that he is not American. That should account for something if you must judge him by the following statments.)

1999 "You need to meet men. Go out to some bars!"

1999 (same conversation) "What about online or something?"

2006 "You should sign up for one of those dating sites. You should! You can meet men that way!"

2006 (same conversation) "You have to start having babies. Mom wants grandchildren. We both do so we can spoil them." (My brother's kids apparently don't count. Now there's a story for another day.)

At dad's request, any takers?? Or have I proven myself too much of an emotional idiot?

Saved

I just realized...if I ever find myself in a terrifying, horror movie type situation, I will totally survive. Only the slutty girls die! Woohoo!

Have Some Paranoia With Your Night Terrors

My body lets me know when it's feeling stressed by manifesting physical symptoms. At this point in my life, it has even determined specific symptoms for specific stresses, ie, general stress that becomes a little too much gives me indigestion and various forms of heartburn, nausea, etc. while heavier stress that has made its way into my subconscious gives me night terrors.

I started having these night terrors during the Jean fiasco. Of course, I didn't realize that's what they were when I was having them, but now that they seem to surface whenever I'm emotionally stressed about something I try to pretend I'm not, it seems a logical conclusion. The worse one I ever had I woke up from standing beside my bed shaking and scared out of my mind. I had to stare at the ceiling for a good five minutes before coming to the conclusion that there weren't any knives dangling from it.

They are usually extremely violent and feel extremely real. Sometimes they are just hints at violence. Lately they've moved into this surreal paranoid realm where I am sure someone or something is watching me. Whatever the case, they are always terrifying and I wake up in a state of utter fear and confusion.

Two nights ago I woke up hitting the bed next to me as a dark anaconda-like body slithered up from underneath it and brushed my arm. Scared the shit out me until I could slow down my breathing and convince myself it wasn't real. When I finally fell back asleep I dreamed about Jean. I was with her husband (the boy she dated in college who is not in fact her husband) and when she got off the bus from work she saw me and opened her arms and said, "I can't believe you've come! After all this time, I knew we could work this out." She then proceeded to hug her husband first before coming to me. I remember feeling very odd, almost like someone had dropped me into that scene and I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to work anything out with her.

Then yesterday I logged into an old account online and found an email from her. It is over a year and a half old and I only vaguely remember getting it, finding it irritating and ignoring it. It was two and a half years after we stopped speaking. And as in the hand written letter she sent the year before that, she claimed that our friendship meant (and still means if I would get back in touch with her) so much to her and she honestly didn't know what went wrong. She honestly didn't know. This after I replied to her hand written letter with one of my own explaining that it was not one thing that made me angry enough to stop speaking to her. I told her I couldn't go back through it all but that if she really had matured she should be able to look back and see how unbalanced our friendship was, and that it just wasn't meant to be.

Obviously she didn't get the hint. Or she needed some kind of closure by way of explanation. I feel no need to provide that for her. In writing what I did write, I was able to have closure for myself. Or so I thought...

I suppose it really never should have surprised me that an energy sucking black hole couldn't see why a relationship was one sided and hurtful. Perhaps it was true, perhaps she had changed and matured since then. By saying that, one would think it was also an admission that she was partly at fault, or at the very least partly immature thereby leading to some kind of emotional rift which there clearly was. But that would be wrong because she then asked what she did so she could apologize for it.

How does she not know that by doing that she negated the sincerity of the apology?

The whole forgive and forget thing…I'm not sure how far I am with either. Obviously I haven't forgotten, I know I never will, but as for forgive? I may have. I want to think I have…but that doesn't mean I ever want to see her again. She said she thought the reason for our "drifting apart" was because maybe stories were told and therefore our end was based on untruths. If she knew me at all, she'd know I'd never base the ending of a 6 year friendship ( 2.5 of which were extremely rocky teetering on horrible) on something I heard from someone. It only makes me sadder that everything I thought I saw in her, everything I thought we shared really was just me projecting. She never did take the time to know me. Why should she? I fit all her projections perfectly. Apparently we're both at fault.  

At any rate, it's just weird how all of a sudden she's in my subconscious again and I'm coming across letters at the same time, and of course now I think I'm seeing her places. Unresolved issues as my friend J would say? I dunno. I thought it was over. I thought I finally forgave myself for being a doormat. Perhaps I should rethink it. Uh. That statement alone makes me want to jump off a bridge. Why can't old shit just remain buried?
 
Last night I had another paranoid night terror. I even remember reaching up into the space above my bed, trying to grab the audio device I saw floating there. First of all, why the hell would anyone be listening to me sleep and b, wtf? a floating audio device? I even know my eyes were open because it felt like I was awake but trapped in a body over which I had no control. At some point I was able to shake it off….probably after staring at the ceiling for five minutes convincing myself none of it was real.

Very creepy.

But obviously things are going on in my subconscious (which I actually attribute to work stress, but may be related to Jean also??)

Do paranoid people know they're paranoid? If you are aware that you feel like someone is watching/listening but you're not totally sure if it's an actual reality, is it invalidated? That is, am I not technically paranoid because I am aware it's probably all in my mind?

FSD

I suspect we've all had it at one time or another.

I just received my new copy of Bitch Magazine and read it through, cover to cover, like a good feminist. The article about the Pharmaceutical companies actually researching ways in which to sell woman "pink viagra" by making them worry about potential sexual problems made me think twice about my own um...non-sexual history.

"Female sexual dysfunction is listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (the official catalogue of mental illnesses), so if a woman is diagnosed with something that falls under the umbrella of FSD (say, lack of desire, lack of arousal, pain during intercourse, or lack of orgasm), she is automatically considered to have a mental disorder. A few generations ago, a woman might be considered mentally ill (more specifically, a nymphomaniac) if she wanted sex too much; these days a woman might just as easily be labeled mentally unsound if her libido is below "normal."
-"bad medicine Big Pharma's female trouble," Heather Hartley

I would definitely be interested in hearing what a psychologist had to say about me, but I highly doubt I would be diagnosed with a mental disorder, even if I did have a lack of desire, arousal and orgasm. At least...I hope. Yes of course your mental state affects your physical state, but it's just ridiculous to imagine you can reduce such widespread symptoms to a (gendered) mental disorder.

Wouldn't it be nice if it could be that cut and dry? I'm not having sex during what's supposed to be my prime because I have a mental disorder. I'll take some drugs and it'll all be better. According to their terms though, I don't really know if I have a lack of desire, etc. because there's no one asking me for sex at all, let alone when I'm not in the mood, to gauge the alleged normal libido. All I have to go on in that respect is self-love, so at least I do know that I can be aroused and have orgasms. Frequency would be the issue I guess.

And that is possibly yet another fear I have. Will I be expected to do it all the time? What if I'm not in the mood? A lot? I can go for weeks without a little howdyado, and I feel like though that's the norm for couples that have been together for a long time, not so much with the newer ones. He's either going to think I'm a tease or a tightass and won't stick around for long. Who wants to deal with that?

I never realized just how many ways I can justify removing myself from the entire dating/relationship process entirely based on sex. I don't want to get involved because I don't really know what to do. I don't want to get involved because it'll be expected of me and I hate expectations. I don't want to get involved because what if he wants to and I don't? Annoying. I wish I could shut off my brain. It's just useless projection and what does it matter anyway? Why can't I just let things take their course? I can do it with just about every other area of my life, to a degree anyway.

It's also really frustrating to hear that it isn't that big a deal and yet everything, everywhere has something to do with it. The act itself may not be, but remember how scared you were before you did it, or anything else that involves fear of the unknown? Ok, now multiply that by a hundred now that you're an adult and still haven't done it. No matter what the subject, it can be related back to sex. It's like the engine that runs the human race. I suppose that's actually a good metaphor in that sex keeps the population alive, but in mainstream culture, that's not the reason why it's done. We are a hedonistic bunch. I include myself in that because I want to be part of it, I'm just having a few issues getting there (perhaps due to my mentally unsound-ness.)

I shouldn't be surprised then to hear that Pharmaceuticals are trying to profit off the one thing that everyone, sans religious devotees, has in common. For once, it's even affecting men. Sex, sex, sex if you're not having it there must be something wrong with you. It's sexual terrorism. (Talk about dramatic!!) Next time you pop that viagra though, or whatever new drug they push on us for our sexual dysfunction, think about who you're actually helping.

Let's start making our own rules:
1. Pharmaceutical Companies do not have a say in what is and what is not normal human behavior.

My Gaydar Is Wrongly Attuned

How can I tell if a guy is gay?

If he's cute, wearing mint green shorts, an unmatching checkered blue shirt and I'm not attracted to him-
He's straight. Probably one of those rich playboys from the Hamptons who doesn't wear socks with boat shoes.

If he's cute, wearing mint green shorts, an unmatching checkered blue shirt and I am attracted to him-
He's gay. Probably hasn't come out yet which is why his shirt doesn't match his mint green shorts.

If Only Anonymity Wasn't So...Anonymous

Carol: Hello! I filled your freezer again. There's now enough meat in there to feed every guy who answered your ad and still...whoa.
Sarah: Carol this is Jake. Jake did, in fact, answer the ad.
Jake: Do I get my meat?
-Must Love Dogs

If I could meet John Cusack through online dating, I would totally do it.

Unconsciously Celibate

My friends asked me again this weekend why I don't just marry D, the guy I had a huge crush on in high school, remain (long-distance) friends with today and actually tried one or two times to visit him to specifically see if the spark was there. He's the one I still consider sleeping with but know in my heart of hearts I won't because I don't want to hurt him.

They asked if I had ever slept in the same bed as him. I said yes. They were surprised. Seems I can still do that. Surprise them that is. Anyway, the first time I went to visit D, I went with the idea of a potential relationship in mind. Thus why I think I agreed to sleep in his bed. Being extremely respectful he stayed on his side until he got the nerve and threw his arm over my side. He asked if it was ok and I said yes. Mostly because I couldn't say no, but also because I liked it despite being completely freaked out and deciding that I didn't want to pursue anything. I pretty much froze with his arm over me. I don't remember much else but I'm sure I didn't sleep that night.

ISSUES!

So the spark wasn't there, nor was it the second time I visited, but I still harbor the desire for there to be. Every time I visit him or he visits me, I hope for the chemistry and at the same time know at this point it doesn't seem likely that I'll let myself feel it anyway. It's silly I know, and probably just a desperate attempt to believe that I can have the spark and the want to be with someone long term too. I dunno.

But I always come back to not wanting to hurt him. How presumptuous is that? If we got to really know one another again, by being in the same place at the same time for a length of time greater than 3 days, who's to say his crush on me wouldn't dissipate? Or mine on him wouldn't grow into love? (And I do have a crush without a spark. Actually, I have many of those. All on older men, aside from D who is my age, I think because they don't actually pose a threat and we can flirt without me having to worry about getting pregnant. Also, older men in general know how to make me feel good without coming across as only wanting to get in my pants. Though they make that desire clear as well...)

Why am I so obsessed with that spark?
And why haven't I really felt any chemistry with anyone?
Can I really do that much inhibiting with my mind?

The Hooch Says It All

A bartender once told me as I was peeling the label off of my bottle of Hooch (because I am that much of a drinker) that peeling the label off of bottles was a sign of sexual frustration. He walked away and I said to no one in particular, "am I that transparent?"

In retrospect, maybe he was hitting on me? But he walked away. And he didn't offer to relieve it so maybe not.

Life Sized And Everything

"You know I would never interrupt you when you're getting a piece of wood."
-Hollywood

Wow. A real/fake Kim Catrall.

Perhaps I should invest? Apparently I only have one sample to choose from. Charlie. On the couch or in a tub. I'd never have to worry about getting pregnant...or any sense of real life. It's the epitome of vicarious!

Hey Chuck, can you make my dreams come true?

Right. I can't even buy myself a vibrator. That's a mixture of embarrassment and fear that if I do get one, I'll keep my crown forever.

Where would I even start anyway? There are so many to chose from. The Astrea I? Really? Do people need to have orgasms at parties?

Queen Vee's Vicarious Sex Education

A list of firsts as I can best remember. Many other scenes may have been witnessed by these eyes before I could record them mentally, but these are the basis of my enlightenment. Enjoy.

My first vicarious visual of a man's penis: Wild Things
Kevin Bacon, you were my first! And yes, I was in college. Someone just buy me a freakin' habit already. Only a glimpse, but I count it. Never saw An Officer And A Gentleman. My first porn was later in college. Some friends and I rented this Italian one because Jean and I thought it had a storyline. Pretty much just scene after scene of 6 guys cumming on one girl's face. The Ron Jeremy flick I saw years later was much more entertaining. (Strangely, this is the only lesson I actually learned before vicariously experiencing it. I was about 8 years old and playing with my friend who lived down the street when the bathroom door opened. There was her brother, naked and balancing on top of the laundry hamper. I couldn't imagine what that thing was dangling between his legs.)

My first vicarious visual of another woman's vagina: Basic Instinct
Ok so I was like 14. On a family vacation out West my father and I rented a movie in the hotel room while my mom went to sleep. Obviously he didn't know the movie content. As the sex scenes revved up I would look at him, more interested in his reaction to the fact that I was watching it than actually watching it. When he noticed he threw a pillow at my face and said, "cover your eyes." I knew then that he knew I knew about sex. I was naive what can I say?

My first vicarious witness to a female flip her bean: Sliver
Oddly enough another Sharon Stone flick two years later. Again, I told you I was naive. That whole shower scene is burned into my brain and to this day makes me completely paranoid that someone is watching me. Obnoxious.

My first vicarious simulation of a male spank his frank: Pump Up The Volume
(I have seen more actual public spankings than I want to, and in light of that I think I just can't remember the first actual vicarious one.) Ah the innocence. I had no clue why Christian Slater was making that noise until someone told me later. I could claim it as not really paying attention to the movie, but we all know the truth.

My first vicarious blow job: Heathers
I thought I was so badass when I saw this movie because it was rated R. I went over to JU's house, a rebel of sorts at 11 years old, and watched it with her and her older sister (who ended up being sent to boarding school after she dropped her hair dryer in the sink while the faucet was on. On purpose.) Of course, I didn't actually know the meaning behind the Maxell poster until a year or two later when I learned what a blowjob was on the school bus.


My first vicarious lick job: I don't know the name of it, but I'm pretty sure it starred Mary Stuart Masterson or at least an actress that looks like her.
All I remember is she's at work on the phone and this guy under her desk goes down on her. It's all she can do to keep from moaning into the phone. It was all I could do to keep from crying that I'd never felt that pleasure.

My latest vicarious experience of double oral and rough sex: A History Of Violence
I admit, had to rewind both scenes and watch them again. Not a lot is shown but damn does it point you in the right direction. Couldn't get either out of my head for a long time until...

My latest vicarious sex experience: P.S.
Oh the mounting. And on Topher Grace, one of my favorites. He calls himself wirey in the movie which makes me like his skinny ass even more. Maybe it's because you can't see anything but her slow bouncing that this scene will not leave me alone. Imagination is a powerful thing. I found myself replaying it in my head on my morning commute the other day and had to force myself to stop before things got too exciting. Ah Laura Linney you made it look so easy and enjoyable.

Go Clone Yourself

I am a bleeding heart liberal, pro-choice, feminist and all the other terms conservative extremists twist into bad words to scare people. However, I am against cloning as a form of procreation. Not that all bleeding heart liberal, pro-choice feminists are for it, I'm just saying, perhaps my mind's not that open.

Which is actually odd when you think about it because after all my complaining about sex and lack thereof it, you'd think I'd be all for a new way of life that renders sex obsolete.

Friends Before Lovers

I like to read through my horoscope every once in a while to see what the stars supposedly have in store for me. Sometimes it makes me chuckle to think that some poor soul believes the overly general readings that could apply to just about everyone, and almost every time it makes me laugh when I get to the romance section.

You're not the kind of person to let an opportunity slip through your fingers. On the 1st, if you see somebody on the street and get a good feeling in your gut -- a feeling that tells you this person could be important to your life -- don't forget that you're the kind of person who takes advantage of situations like these and asks for their phone number.
-ivillage

This is especially funny because not only I am not the "kind of person" who asks people for their number, I can barely give mine out when someone asks me. The very first time a guy asked me I became all awkward and strange and promised to promise nothing. God that's embarrassing. Who promises to promise nothing regarding a phone call? I definitely won't be winning the best flirt award.

I seem to find a lot more truths in Chinese astrology. That is, the readings given more closely resemble my personality. One thing that comes up over and over in different readings is the fact that I hold friendships higher than romantic relationships. This has been true since high school. Side note: probably even before then...when I was in grammar school I had a 3 best friends and different boyfriend every week. What the hell happened?

I guess that's why I have no relationship drama as baggage, but I have broken friendships that sometimes weigh me down despite my best efforts not to let them. For whatever reason, whatever reason out of my hundreds, I think I need to feel connected to a person on a certain level of a balanced friendship (or what I perceive as balanced- I've been wrong before), where both sides expect back only what they are willing to give. That may sound idealistic, possibly even unrealistic to a cynic, but I think I've found a pretty good place.

I don't have a ton of friends I see often, but the ones I have I will probably have for a long time. I say that but then thinking about the changing courses of life and how growing apart can be a natural progression, I realize I may not.

Joan Cusack has a great line in Friends With Money about if she had met Jennifer Aniston's character at that point in their lives, instead of when they were younger, she probably would not be friends with her. Like the vicarious ass that I am, I applied this to my own life and found that I cut loose a lot of those friends from my youth. Most of the people surrounding me now I met as an adult. Or a fledging one anyway.

Except my best friend from high school who I still talk to and try to see often. She doesn't live that far, but it's far enough that I can't go over whenever I feel like it. We've been friends through a lot, and I don't mean that the two of us have had a lot of drama between us. In fact, we've hardly ever had a fight. I suppose that's mostly because I don't like to fight and will avoid confrontation at all costs. But also, she knows this about me and never takes advantage of it.

So 13 years later, we still consider ourselves best friends, though I really hate that term, even after she moved across the country, got married, moved back...But now she's pregnant and I'm thrilled for her but I know things will change. I asked her in my snarky joking but half serious way if she thought we'd ever see each other after the baby was born. Most of the time when we see each other now it's because I go to her. She thought for a moment and said yes. I'm not so sure. I mean, she will always be my friend of course, but even good friends drift. It's always great when getting back together, but you get the picture.

Of course I want to be part of the baby's life, but hers is now a different path than the one I'm on. Not that I won't be able to go over there and stay like I've always done, but it won't be the same. Maybe that makes me selfish. Maybe I won't mind because it'll be so great to play with my pseudo-niece or nephew. I don't know. Maybe we will still be the same and I'm over thinking as I usually do.

All I do know is things are going to change, and despite craving change, when it involves friendships that I hold dear it makes me nervous. But like always I will go with the flow and enjoy or mourn wherever it takes me.

Non-Chemical Chemicals

I was just wondering, is there anything that inhibits the inhibitions? That won't completely destroy my brain or any sense of what it's like to still be inhibited at times or make me feel absolutely horrid the next morning?

I would enjoy that very much. Please get on that. Or me.

Did I just write that?

No Excuse

"And the talking leads to touching, and the touching leads to sex, and then there is no mystery left."
-Rilo Kiley

What makes me feel like even more of a freak...even the people who have built walls, are emotionally unavailable, keep people at a distance, have shut down, checked out...even they still have sex.

The Skin I'm In

Well, I did it. I went out and saw The Lake House. It is exactly what I expected it to be, except for the ending. I won’t spoil it, but the fact that I’m surprised must say something about me. I think it would have made a much better novel because, for me anyway, suspension of disbelief is a lot easier to achieve when it’s within my own imagination. That said, it wasn’t hard to enjoy because I was still able to let myself get wrapped up in the emotion of longing for love, something with which I can clearly identify.

Two things bugged me though. 1- It should have taken place many years ago, because it’s way too easy to get information about people now. Any sane person would have googled him the second she learned his name, and if she couldn't do that she could have at least opened the phone book. Perhaps that’s my suspicious side rearing its ugly head but come on, it’s not every day you meet someone who claims to be physically living in the past and the present at the same time.

2- Not surprisingly I always relate to independent female characters who for whatever reason have built up walls and can’t seem to love or be loved by anyone. I need to see (or write) a movie about a woman whose walls are much harder to break down. Course it would probably end up being a 10 hour movie showing one woman’s inner dialogue about her issues with love. Dullsville. But you see my point? I know. It makes no sense because most people don’t go to a romantic drama to be depressed about how the main character can’t find love. “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” or so says Tennyson. Even when it’s vicarious love I suppose.

The connection between loving someone and missing them is one I have yet to reconcile. I think about the people in my life and what it means to me to have them in it. I cherish the family and friends that I have, and know I’d be crushed without them. However, sometimes I think if I don’t miss someone, presently, maybe it means I don’t love them. Objectively speaking that sounds extremely childish because I know missing someone is not purely indicative of loving them. And yet, it is still unsettling for me to think that if someone I think I love were to be completely absent from my life and I didn’t miss them, maybe I didn’t love them. I seem to have cut loose a lot of friends this way.

Then I think maybe I’ve just perfected the craft of building walls and can do it so swiftly they are up before I have the chance to feel hurt, or miss someone. Or maybe I still hold everyone at a distance even though I think I’m letting them in. Of course, then there’s always the strong possibility that I’m being naive in thinking these defenses will protect me when someone hurts me. Because I still have friends, I still have family and it’s inevitable that people get hurt, as well as hurt other people. I’m no saint.

I guess I just wish I wasn’t so sensitive. I’m like a raw nerve ending inside a glass cylinder. Most people only get to the outside layer and their comings and goings don’t bother me. I know I’m probably fooling myself in thinking that the few who get inside can be divided into further tiers, because once you’re in you have all the potential in the world to strike that nerve. I’ve been told that if someone does strike it, they get thrown over the wall and it’s twice as hard to get back in. For sobbing out loud I’m my own high-tech security system. What’s so great about me that I need so much protecting for gadsake?

It’s time to punk up miss big black boot wearing tough girl. Thicken that skin and live up to the image you so proudly present. Let them in and let them go. Let’s face it, it’s the only way you'll ever get laid. You cannot die a virgin. It’s just too gaddam precious.

All Work And No Play

Makes Queen Vee a dull girl.

The band was supposed to play the small party and I got on stage to join them. I strapped my guitar on and sat down. We began to play but something (invisible) stopped me and I physically couldn’t strum. The frustration I felt was overwhelming. I practically threw the guitar and stalked off through the crowd saying, “I can’t take it anymore, I just can’t take it.” (It is something I probably say weekly with sincerity to some of my co-workers.)

I went up to my room, took off my jeans and put on the navy blue yale sweatshirt I owned when I was 12. I slipped into bed, curled up into the fetal position and began to cry. Someone came in and sat on the bed. I thought it was my friend until he put his hand on my shoulder and spoke. It was my father.

“You know you shouldn’t do that in front of your mother. It only upsets her and sends her into depression,” he said softly.
“I know I know,” I said through muted sobs. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I just want things to stop holding me back.”
The tears continued to fall until I woke up with a tear stained face.

That was my dream last night. It’s so blatantly telling of what’s going on in my subconscious it’s almost embarrassing. Granted I’ve felt stunted in the relationship category for a long while, feeling it at work too tips the scales too heavily to one side. On top of that, stunting myself is a completely different feeling than being stunted by egotistical, ridiculously political (dare I say even sexist at times) jealous people who don’t know their heads from their asses.

Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe how I’ve been feeling for the past six months. I think I’m doing the right thing by hanging in there…something has to happen eventually. I’ve applied for all kinds of jobs and tapped all the connections I possibly can. Something somewhere has got to give, I just hope it’s not me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being tested, by whom I don’t know, but I’m damn tired of this test. Patience is not one of my virtues, but I am not without it either. I’ve waited for things before and no doubt will in the future. But this is starting to kill me.

Maybe it’s not patience that I’m being tested for, but strength. It seems unfair though that some people have to suffer tests of strength involving actual human survival, and here I am complaining about a corporate job that’s not worth the dirt under the feet of real sufferers. I am grateful for my job and the life I am able to live, it’s just…it’s even more frustrating to know how big life is and how small I have to live it sometimes. That’s being melodramatic I know, because most of the time I’m truly happy with the way things are, but there’s so much life has to offer and I hate that I can only get bits and pieces. Almost everyone has to work in order to live, I just wish less time had to be devoted to it. I suppose living life to the fullest is a subjective thing, but I think it’s safe to say we’d all like to do a little more living, a little less working.

Maybe this is all just stemming from having an outside source hold me back, instead of myself for once. If the tables were turned, sure I’d have to abide by certain politics but I’d take care of those who worked for me. At the very least, I would try.

Last One Standing Still

The Lake House looks like another ridiculously cheesy, predictable yet still depressing romantic drama, and I will have to see it. I’m drawn to these stupid flicks like a moth to flame. Aside from liking Sandra and liking to look at Keanu, this movie has nothing to offer me but a contradicting eye-rolling, heart wrenching cry fest about a love that could never be. Why do I bother?

Sometimes I think I do it because I don’t have any of that kind of drama in my life. I don't know if I could handle it. I've put up so many walls, I might explode if someone else's feeling got in and mixed with the insanity of my own. God that sounds pathetic. Not only because I purposely built my life free of as much drama as I could, but also because who the hell has to experience emotion through film because they can’t do it in reality?

I'm a vicarious whore.

Every once in a while I find myself playing the “Am I The Only Virgin In The Room?” game, the details of which are fairly obvious. Most of the time, the answer is yes. A decidedly definitive Yes after all my assumptions are made based on the physical appearance and body language of whoever is unknowingly a player, of course. After hearing of my cousin’s proposal, it occurred to me that I am the only virgin left in the entire family barring my nieces, both under ten. There is a possibility of one other cousin holding the V card, but I think that has more to do with being a good Catholic.

Not that it really matters. It just brings me back to my original question of what’s my problem? Why am I such a mental freak? Why do I have to think so much? If thoughts were horses, I'd be arrested for posthumous animal abuse.

A guy I used to work with called me today to tell me he found Jesus. He called to tell me that news specifically and that he was telling all his friends. I said, “I assume that means you are a happier man?” He said, “Well no, but I am calmer and a lot less angry.” He didn’t say anything else about it.

I didn’t ask.

After I thought about it I was a little sad that the answer to my question wasn’t yes. Maybe his life has changed for the good but he's still just realistically dealing with all the hardships. We all know belief doesn’t magically absolve problems, I was just hoping they'd weigh a little less. For many religious leaf turners I suppose that's exactly what happens. That switch is hit and boom- their life is changed.

Then there are people who have horrible accidents or illnesses and suddenly they are able to take life by the balls and appreciate it. I'm not really in the market to experience a religious transformation, nor do I want to have a near-death experience...but I still want the pay off. I want that switch to be hit. I try to appreciate life the best I can, but I still hope to have a moment where a light goes on somewhere inside and the fog clears. Even if it’s just about one small issue.

For too long I’ve been at a standstill.

I Still Don't

My cousin left me a message saying she had the most depressing news. The minute I heard it, I knew what it was about. When I called her back, she told me our younger cousin is getting married. He's 25. I can't even say he's too young, though in his case it may be true. My cousin and I used to argue growing up over who would get married first. Clearly it was going to be her, that bet I knew I could stake my life on. For some reason she always thought it would be me. At this point I'd even venture to say our youngest cousin will be the next to marry. She's 20.

My grandfather will be thrilled. My oldest brother is the only one of his grandchildren to have gotten married in his lifetime. He's 88. One out of six. When I say thrilled I mean he'll get to say all the nice things he's wanted to say to me in light of the event. My cousin will get some too, but not like me. She's younger and has had an endless string of meathead boyfriends.
Let's see if he can outdo my guesstimates:

Your younger cousin is getting married, when will you?

It'd be so nice to see a man sitting next to you there.

When are you going to get a husband?

I'd like to see you get married before I die.

You're getting old, don't you want to get married?

What are you, a lesbian?

Despite what you may think, no comment of his is ever well intentioned. The only way he knows how to relate to people is to insult them. Knowing that I suppose it's something I could hang on to, but I won't. I've seen what doing that can do.

Not Even Coitus Interruptus

Speaking of unfulfilled fantasies…here’s a little insight into my subconscious, which is obviously completely mocking my conscious self. I would laugh myself if it wasn’t so damn depressing for me.

Every single sex dream I’ve ever had (that included another person) ended before my deflowerment. I’m not even kidding. Things get going, all is well, and then inevitably we are interrupted. Sometimes it’s another person which embarrasses me and I have to stop, but mostly it’s me. Stopping things. In a dream. I mean, come on I’m not really that repressed am I?

I actually wrote down one of these dreams right after I had it because I knew one day I’d want to look back and amuse/frustrate myself with the details. To this date, it is my favorite interrupted sex dream. Here it is in all its hilarity:

Edward Norton and I were in the fancy dining room of a big hotel/high school. The door was locked. We were standing in an embrace so tight I could feel his heart beat. His hands slid down my back and we started to kiss. He was amazing of course. I felt him pick me up and lay me down on the table. I was wearing jeans and a man’s undershirt with no bra. He said, “we’re going to do this raw,” (god, even the dialogue in my dreams needs help) and got up on top of me.

We kissed again and I pulled off his shirt. He slid back down and stood at the end of the table. Man, was he hot. I got up on my elbow and unzipped my pants. Suddenly I stopped.

“Edward, I think I have to pee. Don’t move I’ll be right back.” He smiled and I went into the bathroom. The toilet was unusable so I went back through the dining room and unlocked the door. The hall was filled with students. I knew there was a bathroom three flights up so I ran up the stairs but couldn’t find it. There was a sign for a locker room one flight down so I went back down.

The rest of the dream involved me running from place to place, trying to find a usable toilet. The one I ended up finding had walls that only went down to my knees, and only added to the discomfort I began feeling a few seconds earlier when I realized a little boy was looking over the top of the stall. I actually remember thinking, I hope Edward doesn’t think I’m weird for taking so long to pee. As if I still had a shot in hell with him.

On my way back to the dining room I woke up.

Queen Vee indeed. Maybe I should get a gem-studded chastity belt. At least then I’d live up to my self-appointed Royalty. Love the little teeth. Totally makes the belt.

To Do List

For the record, if either of these two ever met me and whispered something sexily direct in my ear, no-holds-barred. Naked time with none of these pesky inhibitions.



Of course, with my luck they're both probably gay. I can't even lose my virginity in my fantasies. Such is life! *sigh*

Overly Sensitive I'm Sure

During one of the various “mandatory” after work drinks (don’t get me started) I chose to sit on the opposite end of the table, as far from my boss as I could possibly position myself. As per usual the invite was emailed and closed with, "be there.” It was clearly directed towards yours truly for skipping out on the last gathering for drinks with co-workers.

Trying my best to enjoy myself, I barely glanced toward that end of the table and concentrated on the conversations of the people immediately around me. Somehow there was a lull and my boss took the floor. She began to tell this inappropriate story about how a friend of hers was still a virgin.

“Can you believe it?” she said, aghast. “She’s in her thirties and she hasn’t popped her cherry. God. I mean, it’s not like she’s ugly. She’s a little chunky but still…”

I think it was probably that moment in which any respect I had for her as a person burned up in a blaze of disgust. (My personal and professional respect have both diminished greatly since the day she became my boss and for various reasons, but this sealed the deal.) First of all, that’s her friend she’s totally mocking and not in a light-hearted way. I don’t care if my friends joke with me and make fun, but if they went out and told a room full of people who worked for them how awful it was for me, I think I’d be a little hurt. Of course, I wouldn’t be friends with people who would demean me like that. At least, I hope by now I've weeded those out.

Granted, all of my co-workers who were also subjected to this insipid story (that didn’t stop there) have most likely forgotten it. Hell, they probably forgot it two minutes after she told it. I realize it is my own insecurity that prevents me from doing the same, but I know for a fact that even if I wasn’t a virgin, I still would have been offended at how she treated an alleged friend.

1 (+1?) = :)

A fabulous woman left me a comment on my last post that actually brightened my day.

“What I am convinced of, is that most people are not strong enough to see the world from their own point of view. What I mean is, most people would rather be part of a couple (even if it is a disfunctional one) rather than being alone and "waiting" for that magic bullet.”
-scribe la

I completely agree with that and reading it reminded me that I am not one of most people. I’m pretty sure it would kill me to be in a relationship that didn’t make me happy. (My friendship with Jean almost crushed me, I cannot imagine what it would have done if it had been romantic too.) I realize all relationships have ups and downs, but I’d like to believe the best ones have more ups than downs. If that is too naïve, well then let me suffer happily alone believing it.

Let me say again that though I would like to be with someone, I'm ok on my own. What sometimes worries me about actually ending up with someone, is that my world-view, my independence is like an invisible force field that keeps men at bay. I have only been approached by a small number of guys, many of whom were drunk, and I suppose I could chalk it up to not being very social, being shy in large crowds especially around men, the whole body language thing, freaking out if friends every try to set me up with friends, etc. etc. etc. (I’m not painting a very good picture of myself, I’m actually quite outgoing and fun around people I know) but I think my independence plays a part. Maybe moreso in my own mind than in the minds of guys. I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll have to lose some of it in order to become part of a couple?

It makes sense that relationships are about compromise, if you agreed about everything it would get kind of boring…I imagine, but how do you know exactly what is compromise-able? I suppose that’s just something else that naturally occurs and is either good or bad for the couple. It’s all so daunting to think about and that’s my biggest problem. I think too much. Perhaps it’s just that I value my time alone more than trying to find someone who won’t take it from me, or at least someone who I don’t mind taking it from me.

Or maybe I’m actually happy being single and am just lamenting and confused because everyone and their mother expects me to be with someone, married and popping out babies by now. I found a great website I’m adding to my links. This site makes me feel pretty good. I shall embrace my newfound quirkyalone’ness ‘cause it’s not a bad thing. Actually, it’s pretty cool.

Sabotaging Sex

Love can happen at first sight. My parents are a shining example and forty married years later enable this belief in me. Like every other romantic I don’t just want to be in love, I want to be in love in a movie.

Everyone seems to be of the consensus that you can’t choose who you fall in love with. I half agree with this. I do believe love ‘happens’ but I also believe there are people who go through the motions, and either fool themselves into thinking it’s real or find they love the comfort of convenience. Hmm. Maybe these are just other kinds of love, and who am I to judge what works?

Attraction and love are relative things and for me it seems they should follow one another in leading up to sex. So why does it seem to me everyone and their mother is able to separate the two things? Even reverse them? I guess it’s normal to have sex with someone you’re attracted to and not in love with (at least for everyone who isn't me) but how do people have sex with someone they’re not attracted to? Do people really need to have sex that badly? Why don’t I have that drive?

Strangely enough I also believe there is more than one person who could be ‘the one’. It’s all about time and place. And yet, I can’t let myself out to meet even one of them.

I’m not a virgin because I’m saving myself for one special person. If I could find someone I was attracted to, who I felt safe with, and who I felt wouldn’t expect anything of me afterwards (which is kind of a contradiction I know) I think I’d be able to sex it up like no other. Actually, there is one guy who fits one and two, but three? I know he’d want to start a relationship and though he is my friend, I don’t think I could fall in love with him. I’ve tried to imagine it, I’ve even tried to spend time with him thinking of myself as being his better half. He is an amazing man and I'm missing out by not going for him. It's nuts that I know this and still keep my convictions. It's the spark. The goddamn spark. It’s just not there for me. Perhaps I could talk myself into it?

I’ve actually thought about asking him to sleep with me just so I could maybe get over some fears, but I can’t use him like that. He has expressed interest in me in the past and I think I’ve already stomped on his heart. Katie seems to think that if I slept with him and gave things half a chance, I might fall in love with him. Another friend echoes what I said about using him.

I think I’m a virgin because I want to be in the kind of love that makes sex amazing. Also because I’m convinced I’ll be in that 1% that gets pregnant or a STD because my contraception failed. I know there are plenty of people out there who have amazing sex without being in love, but I think the chemicals in my brain would prevent me from experiencing that unfortunately. There is a safety issue that is deep seeded in me I guess. And I’m not just talking physically.

Which leads me to confess that I want to fall in love fast so I can stop sabotaging myself before I even start. I want love to ‘happen’ so I don’t have to think (and overthink) it. I want the feeling of safety I’m just not going to get in the amount of time I want to get it. Or is that just something else I’m telling myself?

So why do I feel so unsafe all the time? Is it legitimate? Why do I worry about pregnancy and STDS and whatever else negative that comes of casual sex? Why do I feel like it is every guy’s expectancy to get laid after dating for a short period of time whether or not he actually likes me? Why can’t I give them, and myself, a chance? What’s the big deal anyway, why can’t I just get over myself and do it?

~

What if I can't let myself love someone?

My First Nongasm

"Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage."
-Mrs. White

One summer while I was home from college K and I sat down to watch our favorite movie. We’d each seen it probably 16 times already, but we were always up for another viewing.

During one particular scene she said, “omg we were watching this the first time I had oral sex with Alex...there! there’s where I came. I will never forget it.”

Apparently neither will I.

It never bothered me in all the following times I watched the movie that when I got to that scene I thought, ah, that’s where K came. That is, until recently.

Now when I see it, it kind of makes me mad that I am unconsciously forced to remember an orgasm I didn’t have. It’s totally unfair. I love K to death but secretly, I hate her for this.

The Line

Every solo person who is dissatisfied with their single status harnesses the dangerous potential to hate the sex of the people they want to be with. In some cases that line is crossed without the single even knowing it, and it only adds to their misery. How can someone like you when you hate them before you even start? For that matter how can someone like you if you don't like yourself?

I see this in a lot of blogs by men who feel they have trouble with women. I am in no way saying women are free of fault, there are plenty out there who seem mean and shallow, just as there are many men of the same, but everything is relative is it not? Everyone seems to want something different from the people they are with and it all hinges on what ‘makes them happy’. I suppose that’s the one common goal we all have, the only differences are in our means to get it. Actions by a really great person can be simultaneously interpreted as bitchy by one, as courageous by another, etc.

You can never know how you really stand in someone else’s eyes. The best you can do is be ok with yourself. That said, I never want to look like the bad guy. I don't even want to think that I may have done something to make someone possibly dislike me. It makes me feel terrible. (Though if they dislike me for something I don't feel is my fault, fuck 'em.)

I don’t know what my problem is. I don’t hate men. If I cross that line now it would be based on what I’ve heard and not what I’ve experienced, and that’s a pretty short sighted way to live. I know this. I do find myself making sweeping generalizations about them, but a lot of that is due to making excuses for not dating and idly if not ignorantly repeating what I’ve heard other women in long-term relationships say.

Maybe I’m afraid of dating because I might end up crossing that line? That’s just silly.
Maybe I’m afraid because I’ll end up hating myself? That sounds more like it. No one can point out my short comings better than me, and knowing that my standards are high coupled with needing the spark foreshadow having to feel guilty about blowing guys off for no other reason than my own desire to find the one and not bother with any others.

It’s all so energy and time consuming. That right there probably marks me as either being selfish or just not ready to be in a relationship. I’m not sure I believe either of those things. I just want to skip the whole get to you know you part, and fall right into the comfort zone. That said it would be really weird to just meet someone and have him come over, eat my cookies, throw his socks on my floor and goose me when I did the dishes.

Maybe it’s that I feel spread thin right now and don’t have the energy to devote to one more thing, albeit my actual personal life. I’m trying like mad to get a new job because the present one is dragging me down! Spending my days trying not to be dragged down is exhausting in itself, but dealing with the treatment from my superiors when it gets politically bad is absolutely infuriating, and only adds to the exhaustion.

Then there are the creative projects I hold dear to my heart but can’t pour myself into due to the above. It’s such a ridiculous cycle considering life is what you make it. If I must drag my ass to work I might as well do it with a smile, it makes things more pleasant for me and other co-workers who I actually like. Of course there’s the distinct possibility that yet again I’m just justifying my four year theory. However, none of that extends my actual day to give me time to do all I want to do. (Plus I am undisciplined, reading blogs and watching tv instead of writing, composing and creating. Death to these evil distractions!)

Can the right man for me please step forward and render this all moot? I know there’s more than one of you out there. Where are you?

The Cute English One

Since I’ve started this retrospective chain of posts, and nothing of note is presently happening, I suppose I’ll continue with a best kiss memory.

One summer I attended a family reunion with a good friend of mine. It was her family reunion mind you, this story is not about to take that type of turn. Anyway, once again there was drinking involved which I hope doesn’t spell out a pattern for me in terms of needing to lower my inhibitions just to have a little fun. That is just lame.

For the first couple hours my friend’s sister kept poking me in the side telling me that their cousin James liked me. He really liked me she emphasized with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. It pretty much made me want to hide. I suppose maybe that’s why I kept drinking, despite not being able to handle it very well. It gave me the courage to stick around and see what would happen next.

James eventually got me alone, which I didn’t make easy for him, however I didn’t make it impossible because I thought he was cute and kind of gave him a kiss the night before on our way out of the pre-family reunion party. Oh did I forget to mention that? If I actually knew how to play hard to get I suppose you could say that’s what I was doing. But I don’t and so my avoidance was due to my not knowing what the hell I was doing as opposed to intentionally trying to bait him.

We chatted for a little while, him asking questions and me answering in monosyllables but not out of disinterest. As I said before, shyness coupled with not knowing what the hell to do left me kind of speechless. When he called me on it the truth just came flying out. Big surprise.

James: You are one hard lady to chat up! I’m trying to flirt with you here.
QueenVee: Oh! I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this. I don’t know how to flirt.
James: What? What do you mean? All you gotta do is talk…
QueenVee: I know, but it’s not easy. Guys don’t approach me often.
James: WHAT? You’re kidding. Every guy in this room wants to kiss you. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!

It went on like this for a while. He absolutely refused to believe how inexperienced I was, despite the telling blush under the alcohol red. He told me a lot about his life, and I suppose I reciprocated but I don’t remember. All I do recall is being nervous, tipsy and happy at the same time. Eventually he had enough.

James: Can I kiss you?
QueenVee: What? Here?
James: Yes, why not?
QueenVee: In front of your entire family? Omg, no. I can’t kiss you inside. Outside maybe.
James: Really? If I take you outside right now you’ll kiss me?
QueenVee: (looks nervously around) Yes.
James: Let’s go!

He grabbed my hand and we were outside the pub in moments, lips locked, arms threaded, my back against the wall. A few minutes later my friend leaned out the window and snapped a picture. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her yet for it, but at the very least it's proof I wasn't dreaming!

The Shy Younger One

My cousin had a Labor Day party a few years ago at a house she was renting with college friends. They were all a few years younger than me and had just graduated, which immediately led me to (correctly) assume it would be like the house parties I used to attend when I myself was in college. Though the idea of actually attending this party was right up there with getting a root canal, I knew she really wanted me to come. I hadn’t seen her in a while and I thought it might be fun to spend time with her in her element. Plus they had a huge trampoline in the backyard.

One of the first people I met was her friend Dan, who played guitar. We chatted for a while about playing and composing and what kind of music we liked. He was cute and of course, very laid-back. I think he had a girlfriend though, which is probably why I was able to talk at length with him.

How I ended up making out with my cousin’s roommate Al is beyond me. Perhaps it was due to the beer I was drinking and not enjoying because I was uncomfortable at this party where I knew nobody. It didn’t help that my cousin abandoned me in favor of her latest boyfriend, which made me angry because I came for her, but also because it meant I had to force myself to meet new people.

Al was shorter, younger, shier and drunker than I was, all of which kind of endeared him to me. Every one of his roommates as well as my cousin told me at various points of the evening that he thought I was beautiful and really liked me. They also kept including the fact that he was inexperienced. I had to ask which one he was because I only met him briefly when I first arrived at the party. However, the next thing I knew I was in his bedroom. I suppose I related to his inexperienced status and felt just as bad for myself as I did for him. At any rate, somewhere along the way I decided what the hell? I might as well get some fun out of this.

I’m pretty sure that if he had been sober he never would have been brave enough to shove his tongue down my throat. Needless to say the memory of it is not tucked away in the best kiss vault. Actually it’s safe to say it is buried inside the worst.

And yet, I kept making out with him.

When it got to the point where the clear thought ok, this is getting gross pierced through my drunken buzz, I pulled away and literally wiped my face. I know. Ew. It’s the one and only time I’ve ever kissed a guy because I felt bad for him and thought I could get a little something out of it.

He probably thought I was a bitch because I never responded to his emails. I just didn’t know what to say. You got more out of me than alot of guys before you so be happy? You win for worst kiss, now please stop trying?