Perspectives

A newfound level of respect for fatties, from me, of all people. I don't think people of normal weight realize how hard it is to do even the most mundane of daily tasks-- leaning over to tie your shoes, for example. I have a huge belly that prevents me from doing normal things. I can no longer see my cooch, let alone bend over to pick shit up from the floor.

Am tremendously afflicted with Madame Bovary Syndrome. Instead of the French countryside, I live in Brookline. My doctor-husband is as sweet as can be, which makes things worse. Now that we have a baby coming, it's not about me anymore. Sometimes I lie in bed during the day, squinting at the sunglight, thinking, "Is this all there is?" Should I resign myself to having passionless sex forever, concentrating on being a good mother? After all, don't all married people stop having sex eventually anyway?

I realize that as a perpetual fuck up at life in general, there is a great chance that I will suck at this whole mothering thing. I will NOT do what my parents did to me--i.e. fuck with my head and make me feel unloved. That will NOT happen to my kid. Which is why I can't even think about cheating on my husband or being with someone else. Which just pisses me off, because I'm not used to being so restrictive sexually. I'm the one who uses sex as an outlet, as therapy, and here I am, not being able to turn to the one thing that actually makes things better.

And for a person who derives most of her self-worth from her appearance(that would be me), it is hugely distressing to venture out on the streets without seedy gentlemen raping me with their eyes or leering at me lasciviously. Now I get maam'd at grocery stores and people give up their seats for me on the subway. Sigh. I may never bring sexyback, as the kids say. So fucking depressing.

Laws

Being pregnant is a very strange state. I was unhindered by the living thing inside of me until this week. A few days ago, I couldn't sleep on my stomach anymore, and I had the distinct feeling that someone was sitting on me. I'm only 5 months along, which means I have 4 more glorious months to await.

The husband is, as always, very sweet to me. Asks me if I need anything at all hours of the day. What I really need is a good fuck with someone else to scratch this itch, but of course, I can't tell him that. I think I haven't had a real orgasm in at least 6 months now. And we have sex every.single.night.

What I've learned from my marriage is that there is a certain primal attractiveness about a person that is instantaneous, unforgeable, uncultivatable. My husband is not ugly or covered with sores or anything, but he is just... puny. Unmanly. Hairy in all the wrong places, unchiseled like a pat of butter. In the end, it comes down to the fact that he is not masculine enough for me. I thought I could develop a lust for him with time, but sex with him is rote, barely physics, a dead circuit.

What he lacks in his sex appeal, he makes up with kindness, thoughtfulness, and being an all-around wonderful human being. I couldn't imagine a better father for my baby. He'd never cheat on me(hell, I'm the hottest chick he's ever banged or hope to bang in his lifetime) and his pedigree and breeding certainly help. He essentially saved me by marrying me, so how could I turn my back on him now, or ever? I can't, of course.

But then I think: Maybe I have a sexual dysfunction. A disorder that makes me unable to get excited about sex unless it involves degradation, violence, danger. Maybe I should go see a sex therapist? Or maybe in the end, it doesn't matter, because we're all going to be wrinkly and pruney and gross anyway. Nobody stays attractive forever, right?

Depraved

You know it's been a long time since you've blogged when...

you forget your login and your password to Blogger.

Ah, my apologies for my absence. But so much of my life seems inconsequential-- most of my days are spent like this: work, dinner, sex with husband, sleep-- that I feel silly writing about it. Who wants to read about how stable someone's life is? I've craved stability my entire life, and once I've obtained it, I daresay it's... boring. I can't type that without feeling guilty as shit, seeing how hard my husband tries to make me happy.

It's a strange relationship we have, the husband and I. For the first time in my life, someone loves me unconditionally. It's like, I can fuck shit up and scream in his face until he cries, but he still loves me and says he wants to be with me. I don't think I love him in the same way.

When I married him, I was on the cusp of turning thirty, jobless, had dropped out of grad school, without prospects. Here was a man who was pedigreed and brilliant, and he wanted to marry me. I knew that he loved me more than I loved him, and I thought that was what I needed. So we got married at the Harvardd Faculty Club, me in a Amsale wedding dress and he in a silk Armani suit, and we said we'd take care of each other forever. Oh, yeah, I was also pregnant at the time.

I know I sometimes come off as being a liberal bitch, but my southern upbringing and the religious fanaticism of my parents have burned into my head: "Baby out of wedlock= shame shame shame." I found out I was pregnant 3 days after he proposed to me and I had said yes. When I accepted, it was kind of a wait and see situation-- maybe drag the engagement out a couple of years until I met someone better. Then the "+" sign on the First Response really got things rolling and we were married in a month. A few days after the wedding, I had a miscarriage. That's just how my luck rolls.

I've always been drawn to the quintessential bad boy, someone who gambles too much and drinks to excess and wrecks too many European cars. My husband? His interests are videogames and Magic the gathering. Jesus, talk about geek chic without the chic. And of course, he had the perfect childhood with loving, adoring parents, so he has no sexual repression, which means, yes, he is boring in bed.

I like some anger with my sex. I want it all-- the hair pulling, the spanking, the dirty talking. With him, dirty talking is him tidmidly asking me, "Will you kiss me down there?" Ugh, give me a break. Where's the perversion, dude? I brought up the idea of group sex, only to have him tell me that it would break his heart to share me with anyone. What kind of a guy says that? A guy who loves his wife, I guess.

But then again, it's probably just me. I'm the one who can't be happy, even when I have it all.

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.