One

Lately I've been thinking about how lonely I am.

I think it's quite sad how, at the age of 28, I don't really have any friends. I guess I hold the term friend to a higher standard than others... when I say friend, I mean someone who will remain loyal to me, someone who will defend me. Disloyalty is probably the trait I most deplore in a person.

I'm really petty, I'll be the first one to admit. It takes me a long time to get over something someone says, even in passing. I take it personally. I tend to burn bridges too. If you cross me, even if you didn't mean to--- you are dead to me and I want nothing more to do with you. I expect people to be perfect. And people are rarely perfect. People are rarely surpassable, even.

And often I refuse to be friends w/someone I consider to be inferior. I refuse to befriend anyone who went to Cornell, for instance. I refuse to be friends w/anyone who doesn't read the right books. This automatically eliminates about 70% of the general population immediately for friendship. And the remaining 30%? About 1 out of 1000 will be loyal enough to be considered a friend.

I get close to people, so incredibly close-- that I'm privy to things people don't even tell their shrinks. Edwina and I were inseparable for a year, and then because I decided she wasn't loyal to me, I cut her out of my life. Just cut out like cancer. There is no residue with me, not ever. It's either all the way in or not at all.

And I've been a little depressed since Elizabeth and I ended our friendship. The thing w/Elizabeth-- perhaps what drove our friendship-- is that I looked up to her quite a bit. She's a few years older than me and I consider her to be the epitome of what my life SHOULD be. She has the perfect boyfriend, perfect condo, perfect clothes-- I sort of put her on a pedestal. I forgave her transgressions, which, from anyone else would have merited an immediate estrangement.

She's been nominally kind to me, in theory. But we aren't friends anymore and I don't really have anyone to talk to, now that I think Mark is a jerk for thinking I'd be a bad mother.

And it's fucking lonely being me. All this elitism, this snobbishness I cultivated in myself-- it leads nowhere but here. And all the guys I've fucked and screwed over-- well, suffice it to say that I have about 200 people wishing me ill.

Obviously I have two choices. I can stay as I am and die alone, or I can choose not to stay as I am and try to change something. I choose not.

Incidentally, my celibacy streak is still going strong. You know what's great is that I actually feel tighter, like I've had hymen surgery or something. I bet the next lucky guy I fuck will really enjoy himself. Maybe the dude shouldn't be a random one, but someone special, to use a vom-worthy word. Seriously, my next time should be some sort of commemorative occasion. If all goes well and I make it to day 30, I think I will wait until I fall in love to have sex again. Notice how I didn't say "make love," as I have boned, fucked, shagged, and boinked, but I have never made love in my entire life. Doubt I ever will.

Oh, dude from Whole Foods called. He is married but "interested in the possibilities." What a gorgeous pig. I was supposed to meet him for drinks but I stood him up. That made me feel a little better until I realized he probably just picked up another chick. Just glad I'm not that stupid anymore.