Back.

Well, it's been a year and some, and I'm pretty sure no one reads this anymore.

Let's see-- since I last wrote, I have managed to do all of the following:
drop out of grad school, get married, have a miscarriage, go to Paris again with someone I love, and become a housewife.

The thing with not having any more drama in your life is that you always feel like you're vaguely missing something. Sometimes, I get up in the morning and I have a hollowness that I can't explain.

The husband is wonderful. He's the first man I've ever met who has really treated me like gold-- he is so good to me every single fucking day. My parents are beside themselves, now that I've "snagged" a good one.

Most of these days, I sit at home, unemployed and bored. I signed up with a temp agency, but they haven't really called me and I guess I don't care. I spend most of my time on Facebook, creepily creeping on people's profiles. As soon as I summon more motivation, I will start on my novel, but for right now, I enjoy vegging out and being a noncontributing member of society.

The husband-- is, shall I say, a nerd. He's really into some weird shit-- and by that, I don't mean anything sexual(I WISH!)-- he's into things like Magic the Gathering, Warcraft, video games. He's so unlike any other guy I've ever been with, not at all dark or swarthy or swaggering. But he tries so hard to make me happy that I had no choice but to marry him.

I wanted desperately to get someone to love me unconditionally since... forever. And now that I have that, I find myself thinking of my alternatives. What is wrong with me?

Sorry!!

Oh, I know. I suck.

I haven't written in a while because I'm busy w/med school, which is kicking my ass like nothing else. I literally study all.the.time. If I'm not studying, then I'm going out on random Craigslist dates.

CL Guy #1 was an intern at Tufts Med. He was tall, cute, charming. He went to Villanova and Jefferson Med School, both of which I have never heard of, but I didn't hold it against him because he was tall and cute and funny. I'll call him Melville.

We walked around Boston, went to a random townie bar, and we came back to my apt, where we TALKED until 5 in the morning. It was insane, our chemistry. Clickclickclick everywhere. We exchanged about 40 or so texts, and we met up again the next day.

Mind you, I had to WALK to his place on Columbus Ave, and that's a far walk from where I live. And it was fucking raining. But whatever, he was cool, he was cute, and I wanted to make out with him a little and see how big his dick was. So I went over, and we pretended to watch TV until he finally put the moves on me and we hooked up.

It was mediocre at best. He was a good kisser, but let's just say that he probably skipped out on a few anatomy lessons during med school. Doctors are usually supposed to be GREAT in bed... but this one? Kind of a dud. I mean, this is all extrapolation, of course. We never actually fucked. Just came close to it, that's all.

He told me how sexy I was, how much he liked me, how he loved my sarcasm.... and we had this weird conversation about trust. As in, we kind of established that he didn't trust me and that I didn't trust him(we had only met 48 hours prior). Then I kind of freaked out on him, "Oh my god, this is so weird... I met you on the INTERNET and we're hooking up!" And I basically left his place at 2am, even though he was practically begging me to spend the night.

He texted me twice the next day, and I wrote back only to 1. And this was over a week ago, and I haven't heard a peep from him since.

I was so hugely dissappointed. Then I remembered that he said to me as we were hooking up, "You shouldn't ever trust a guy." What a weird thing to say! He was a guy. Truly ominous in hindsight, but what can I do about it now? Pretty much nothing.

I then thought about what happened and what I did wrong, and basically, what I did was that I killed my own mystery. Men chase the mystery, the thrill of the unknown, the possibility of getting some, a la man de la Mancha. But I practically gave my shit away the 2nd night I met him... and maybe I came off as desperate.

It took so much self control not to text him or call him, but finally I had to delete his number so I wouldn't do it. I fully expect never to hear from him again.

But what bullshit! What the fuck was all that about, us staying up until 5 am just fucking TALKING?? Seriously. Was he just bored? Was he just toying w/my mind? I don't get it.

I thought I had a pretty good grasp on the male gender until this Melville bullshit. I seriously had half a mind to just march over to his dingy apt and DEMAND to know why he hadn't called or texted. I will never, ever understand men. NEVER.

CL Guy #2-- sigh. Well, he's great on paper, but he's kind of asexual and dweeeeeby. Like, he's thin and short and kind of androgenous with shaggy hair and unkempt clothes. But he's got an MD AND a PhD from Harvard, he's completely brilliant, and I'm pretty sure he's the smartest person I've ever met. We went out for drinks last night, he emailed me when he got home saying he wanted to see me again, and I wrote him back and told him to call me whenever. So that's pending.

It took that awesome date/rejection combo from Melville for me to realize that the best way to make sure a guy loses interest is to put out. I should not have put out so soon, so much. Oh well. At least I learned and now I won't make the same mistake ever again.

All right, back to studying.

babiesbabiesbabies

God, I really curse this instinct of mine to propogate the species. I can't get babies off my mind. I want to have kids, goddamnit. Ideally, I'd like them now so I won't be a gross old 40 something betch who will be shunned by other moms at PTA meetings.

But then there's this other side of me that is all about whoring and stripping and letting weird guys suck on my tits for $400. Even I can recognize that side cannot exist if I am to be a good mother. I mean, realistically speaking, I have so many mental issues that to have children would be cruel. Mark was right about this, and that's why I got so angry about it. Because it was the truth and there was not much I could do about it.

Of course, let me reiterate the sad state of my life, in which I have:

no money

no boyfriend

no real career that will allow me to make money

I mean, yes, I'm fucking around w/the idea of med school, but do I really want to go through 6+ years of more education? I don't want to be a professional student for the rest of my life.

And let's recap the various men who have proposed to me over the years:

1)Steve(this does not count as a FORMAL proposal, because he was still technically and nontechnically married to someone else when he asked me). Besides, I don't think he sees me as the mother of his future children-- just as a hot chick w/serious head problems who is always wearing a shirt that says "I <3 3somes" because that's the only time I ever hear from him(when he wants 3somes).

2)Ben. Ah, Ben. He of the one that got away. Perfect on paper, but he and I would fight all.the.time. Even on the night of our engagement, we got into a fight and I made him sleep on the couch after he we had anal sex. All those stereotypes about Jewish men proved to be entirely too true. Oh, and his mother fucking hated my guts.

3)Matt. Matt proposed to me after we casually dated for 2 weeks. He was obsessed w/me. At first, I lapped up the attention, because it has been such a long time since I had an official stalker. He proposed to me and I thought about accepting it because I was sad and desperate, but I actually ended up trying to shoot my brains out a few weeks later. It's all about timing.

Argh. Why can't I be an oozing plasmoid that doesn't have to worry about propogating the progeny?? Seriously, I am getting desperate, and the desperation is mounting to a point where I won't soon be able to mask it in public. I'll repel and scare away men from a mile away.

Seriously. I'm thinking about having a one night stand w/a Hvd Law or Hvd Med student and renting my uterus out for the next 9 months. I want to be a mom, damnit.

can't take the trash out of the girl

Ugh, am horrible @ managing money. Spent $300 yesterday at Target, of all places. They had a lot of really cool Richard Chai stuff, and I threw it all in the cart and somehow it ended up being $300.

JAY keeps sending me pictures of himself. Have I ever mentioned that the sight of a man's meat stick really grosses me out? Really. If a guy wants to turn me off, the quickest thing to do would be to send some cock shots my way. Ewww. He says gross stuff like "Tell me your deepest, darkest fantasy" and "What would you like me to do 2 u?" Listen, buddy, this isn't 1-900-free-dirtytalk. Either pay up or shut up.

I had lunch w/Elizabeth today and I told her what I did. She rolled her eyes and said, "Well, I'm not surprised. This is typical man-hater stuff, where you try to exploit men like they exploit you." Man-hater? Am I really that transparent?

I don't know why I hate men so much. I seem to derive pleasure at hurting them somehow. Somewhere along the line of cynicism, everything curdled into this sinister, life-negating mentality. I think my man-hating is really just a natural extension of my self-hating.

Elizabeth laughed so hard at my hiring of Tupac and having him loiter the lobby in an upscale downtown hotel. "Jesus, are you crazy? What were you thinking? Of course they would have kicked him out, he had PIMP written on his forehead!" She said my life was something out of a bad Easton Ellis novel.

Then she said: "You know, Catherine. It's times like these when I really see how your upbringing screwed you up. I mean, you're otherwise well-spoken and all, but I think there's a whole chunk of Life 101 you missed growing up in a trailer park."

Well, no shit. Of course this comes all down to my parents and my trashy childhood. Who else can I blame?

The thing that made me laugh like hell was when Elizbeth told me that I asked too little for the peep show. "Well, how much should I have charged, then?"

"At least $2000."

!!! Bitch, you must be trippin' . No man is going to pay $2000 to see some chick naked, no matter how hot.

"Well, you are severely attractive. Plus you went to Harvard."

Uh, yeah. Think the guys give a hoot where I went to school? Talk about naive.

In other unrelated news, there is this... annoying but sweet friend of mine that keeps giving me weird vibes. Like, he'll tell me he wishes he could meet a girl "exactly like me" and tells me saccharine bullshit stories(e.g. he was a fat kid, he felt alienated), like to get into my pants through my heart. (Ha, little does he know that I have no heart and the way through my pants is through his wallet.) I feel sorry for him and I try to let him know that I only think of him as a friend. I actually called him "homie" last night and punched him in the gut. Then he got drunk and told me he jerked off by thinking of me. Gee, thanks.

I think I will go to church tomorrow. I feel my life is in need of some religious righteousness. As if listening to a homily will make me feel less like a whore destined to burn in hell's everlasting fire.

Just so we're clear

Someone brought up a v good point:

"If you're not afraid to die, why are you afraid of STDs?"

Because STDs don't kill you. They prolong your misery w/nasty looking sores on the vag and labia, and inconveniences you w/shit like burning during urination.

I am not afraid of death, but don't forget: I am vain. STDs give you ugly genitals. I don't need more issues w/my vag, my mole is plenty enough, thanks.

Never enough

I got a taste of what easy money is like yesterday, and I am afraid it has unleashed a beast within.

I realize that yesterday was a complete fluke-- nothing happened to me, the guy didn't try to ass-rape me, and I didn't get in trouble of any sort. And I made quick money. But I am no fool and know that this is rare.

But I really hate my current job-- tutoring MCAT, SAT for Kaplan-- and I'd rather do something else. Before this summer, I was poor, but everyone else was doing ok. Nowadays, I am poor and everyone around me is poor also. This makes mooching off of others nearly impossible.

JAY emailed me today and he wanted to know how much a "full pacakge" would be. Honestly, I didn't know how much to ask for. He gave me $400(including tip) just to watch me strip and pretend masturbate, and now he wants "the full pacakge." Then it's like, ok, how much am I worth in pure dollars? I don't see myself letting him fuck me for less than $1000, but I know this is exorbitant and a little ridic.

I hate my body so much: my boobs are too small, I have a mole on my vagina, and my calves are too big. But I must admit that none of this has bothered any dude from deriving pleasure by looking at me naked. Like, yesterday, as soon as I started to take my clothes off, JAY was like, "Ohhh, hold on, can you keep your panties on for a while longer, I don't want to cum yet." OK dude.

It was pretty weird, and I kept thinking how straight out of Literotica this was. He offered me a drink, and I took 1 sip(no way was I getting drunk w/this possible psycho), and I hooked my ipod up to his laptop, and I stripped for him. Then he was like, "I want to see you touch yourself" so I made some exaggerated moans and closed my eyes halfway, saying cheesy ass shit like, "I'm getting sooo wet." If anything on me was wet, it was my pits, because I was kinda scared he would jump me and ass rape me. But I remember a stripper telling me that the worst thing you could do in front of a john was to show your fear. So I acted like everything was super sexy and turning me on. I'm a pretty bad actor and I was kind of nervous that he would see through the act, but he seemed to buy into it.

Then he was like, "Can I suck on your boobs a little?" And I didn't know how to say no w/o ruining the mood. So I let him, and then he wanted to go down on me, but I smiled and reminded him that he wasn't supposed to touch me. I grinded my ass on his thigh though, and he came instantly. It was over in 15 mins.

All this time, Tupac(my bodyguard) was waiting in the lobby for me. He was supposed to come up to the room if I didn't come out or text him in 30 mins. After it was over, JAY gave me a $50 tip and thanked me very formally. When I came down to the lobby, Tupac was arguing w/the concierge because they were asking him leave. He was like, "WHATCHOU doin' down here already, girl?"

I don't trust JAY or Tupac though. Actually, I guess I don't have to fear Tupac because he is really, really stupid. JAY, on the other hand, is not. He's not a bad looking guy, and he seems too slick to be paying women to do anything w/him. He's some sort of real estate developer who owns property all over the country and travels all the time. That's why none of this made sense to me. Why would a decent looking guy pay $400 to essentially jerk off? Part of the reason I was ok w/meeting him the first time was because I had my Tupac w/me, and also, he was staying at an upscale hotel. But what if he was keeping his crazy shit under wraps until I was lured by his normality? I don't know. I am also deathly terrified of herpes, and receiving $1000 is not enough reason to contract herpes or genital warts or whatever else he might have.

What's funny is that I don't give a shit when it comes to fucking people for free. Like, the fear of STDs has not stopped me from getting action, not even once. But when you factor money into the equation, that's when things become dangerous.

BTW, Tupac isn't his real name. It's T'Shawn, but I call him Tupac because he's black and big and likes rap music.

Easiest $400 ever made. Gotta love the big tippers.