Yes.

You know I really like a guy when: 1)I don't cancel the date upon learning he owns a motorcycle 2)I don't run for the hills when he comes to pick me up on a motorcycle 3)I actually get on the fucking motorcycle and sort of... enjoy myself.

Oh dear god. Have I become this desperate?

Bold.

I've always refrained from eating pork loin. Mainly because I wasn't sure what part of the pig is the loin. I mean, I know where mine is, because I have such strong urges from there. But yesterday, I learned that pork loin is really not akin to loin.

So last night, I went on a dinner date. My plan to ask out a random dude at the Hvd Bookstore didn't quite work out as I planned. It started off fine, because there are always hot guys there, so many prospects to choose from. I saw a well-dressed early 30's looking guy who was browsing the medical history section. I started to think about what I was doing, but then I realized I would talk myself out of it if I analyzed it anymore. So I just went up to him. Boldly.

Me: "Hi."
Him: [looks behind him, and then to his left, and then to his right]
Me: "HI."
Him: "Hi?"
Me: "So I'm just going to ask you this. Would you like to get a drink later tonight?"
Him: "Uh...This is a joke, right?"
Me: "You can say no if I repulse you. But this is not a joke."
Him: "All right, who put you up to this? Miller? Is Miller around here?"
Me: "Never mind. Okay then. Have a nice day." [I walk away hurriedly before he sees any more of my humiliation]

So I'm walking out of the bookstore and seriously cursing myself and someone says, "Excuse me" and it's him.
Me: "Oh Christ, it's you. Look, sorry I bothered you. You don't have to worry, I'll leave you alone."
Him: "I am SO sorry. Oh my god, I thought one of my friends was playing a joke on me. It's just that beautiful women don't approach me often."
Me: [I blush furiously]
Him: "Yeah, one of my buddies is a big jokester, and he's always doing stuff to embarass me all the time. Anyway, I sincerely apologize and I am such an idiot."
Me: [now smiling, because I have reeled him in]

This was in the middle of the afternoon, not even 4 pm. We went to a local bar to get a drink and we talked for a while. He's a med student(score!) and he was very funny and charming. So drinks turned into dinner(where he had pork loin and I had a salad, and learned what part of the pig was the loin) and then it got to be around 10pm. I invited him over to my place to "watch a movie" and --how cute is this-- he was like, "Oh, okay. Where's the nearest Blockbuster?" HAHAHA. Who the fuck actually thinks an invitation to see a movie at a girl's place is really an invitation to see a movie? I found this oddly endearing. Anyway, we got our damn movie and he came back to my place and... he didn't lay a finger on me. He didn't even try anything and promptly left after the end credits were over. I was like, what is wrong with him? What is wrong with me? Did I have bad breath? Was he turned off by my humongous calves?

Then I got this text from him an hour after he left: "Had an excellent time with u. When can I c you again?"

So by default, my celibacy streak continues. It's like I can't give this shit away anymore!

I don't wanna look like Brooke Hogan

I was reading Henry Taylor this morning and came across this line:

"...but all I learned was, when the wicked die,
they ride combines through barley forever."

Hilarious! I need to use this line in a conversation with someone soon.

I got up this morning and did 7.25 miles, but I was doing it at the gym and the clueless guy next to me was trying to talk to me. HELLO?? You don't talk to someone who has no makeup on, who is sweating like hell, and has her ipod cranked up. I said, "Talk to me after I'm done" and kind of glared at him. When I was leaving, he quickened his pace(aka nearly stalked me) and we had this gem of an exchange:

Him: "So, uh, are you training for the marathon?"
Me: "What? No." [I look at him like he's stupid]
Him: "Oh. Oh. Because I always see you running and you work out so hard. You look like a runner, too."
Me: "Are you saying I have thick tree trunk legs?"
Him: "No! Your legs are great! Really muscular."
Me: "You just ruined my day. Seriously, get away from me."

One of the downsides of running is that it builds muscle in my lower legs. My calves are already big enough from wearing goddamn heels all the time; the last thing I need is legs like Britney Spears'! Ugh. I build muscle really easily. I'm convinced I have an excess of testosterone in my body(hence the out of control facial hair that looks like a mustache if I don't tend to it properly). But he seriously pissed me off and I'm thinking maybe I should do something else for my cardio instead of running. I don't want to bulk up. The same thing happened to Anna Wintour(I can't believe I know this, but I have read her biography). She was a devoted runner until she started getting muscle-y and she switched to tennis instead. But I don't know anyone who will get up at 6 am to play tennis with me.

And I fucking hate the elliptical. It's so... gay, to use a late 90's term. The only thing I hate more than the elliptical is the sight of a MAN on an elliptical. Jesus, pick something more manly to do. The elliptical is for chubby girls with various joint ailments. Did I mention I hate the elliptical?

I have to get a date for tomorrow night. It has been too long since I got out of my apartment for social calls. I'm hanging around the Harvard bookstore today to see if I can spot anyone cute. And then, out of sheer desperation, I am going to ask him out. And if he says no, I'll ask out the guy next to him. I'm beginning to care less and less about how I am perceived by society in general.

Plan

Jesus, I hate being a fat ass.

I got up this morning and I could barely crank out 6 miles. It got to be so bad that I thought, "Well, it's on the inside that counts." Then it took me about 2 seconds to realize I don't have inner beauty either, because I'm a big snobby bitch, and if I lose my looks forever, I'm pretty much done for. So ran, ran, ran I did until I couldn't take it anymore. It amazes me how out of shape I've become.

I have a good formula for losing weight. It works well for me and if I can stick with it, I can lose about 5 pounds per week. They recommend that you don't lose more than 1 pound a week, but whatever, I am impatient and I would never do this if I couldn't see fast results. It goes something like this: run 7 miles a day, every day. Strength training 2X a week. No refined carbs of any kind, no salt, no sugar, no dairy, no alcohol, no dinner(evening calories turn into fat more ergonomically). Unlimited amounts of coffee. This works perfect for me because really, all I need is to lose about 12 pounds. Right now I'm 110 lbs, which is at the uncomfortable end of my weight spectrum. I don't feel good unless I'm under triple digits. I'll get there in about 3 weeks or so.

Yesterday was the Boston Marathon and I knew 2 people who were in it, so I got to go to the after parties and hang out with the marathoners. I was feeling unsexy(due to my fatassitude) so I was a little standoffish and unsociable. That's ok, because most of the people running weren't that cute anyway.

I've also become absolutely obssessed with http://www.fashiontoast.com. It makes me want to start a fashion blog, or at least add some fashion elements to the current one I have. Right now, my outfits consist of big sweatshirts and leggings and boots. So I have nothing, but wait until I deflab myself. I'll be back to making creative outfits with last season's donations from friends and other scavenges from TJ Maxx.

OMFG, I'm hungry. I'm going to go chew on some ice cubes and try to get some work done.

Case

I know I’ve been terrible about updating lately. Part of the reason is my spotty internet connection, or should I say, the spotty piggybacking of my neighbor’s connection. I used to be able to use my roommate’s computer at whim, but he is not as generous with his personal items as he was when we were having awkward sex. Now he just kind of bristles at me when I ask him for favors. That seems to be a general pattern in my life as of late. Men who would do stuff for me, who would constantly ask me out and beg for my attention aren’t trying so hard anymore. Hmmm, I guess this is how former beauty queens feel when they lose their looks.

My friendship with Mark is shot. There’s only so much haphazard drinking and craziness that you can tolerate once you decide your legs are remaining firmly pressed together. I used to drink before to slightly dull the pain I’d feel when I’d go home with a random dude. And since the random dudes are no longer coming home with me, I just don’t have much of a reason to drink.

And how sad is it to continue binge drinking on the weekends in your late 20’s? I am turning 30 in less than 2 years, and Mark is already 32. At some point, the line between fun and pathetic becomes blurred. Now I find myself playing Scrabulous online on Friday nights with a bowl of ice cream in my face. Okay, so that is also quite sad, but it’s been a welcome change of pace from chlamydia and dirty sex at the downtown Hyatt during lunch hour with the gifter of said chlamydia. Ugh, I still shudder thinking about that. Lesson learned.

So big surprise—I’ve gained weight. Hell, you’d gain weight, too, if all you do is stay at home and eat. I haven’t steeped on a scale in about a week, but suffice it to say that I haven’t worn my skinny jeans at all and I’ve been dressing like shit lately.

I think I’ll probably break my random celibacy streak this week out of boredom. Frankly, I do actually prefer the no sex thing, but I fear I will become a malodorous, huge tub of lard with too much facial hair if I continue to live this way. I’ve realized how fucking BORING life is without sex. Seriously, what do people do to entertain themselves when they’re not getting off? Maybe it’s because I derive so little pleasure out of maintenance activities, or anything that doesn’t come with a degree of danger. But if I continue my no sex experiment, I am afraid of what I may become. So much of my self-esteem comes from seeking men’s approval, or more specifically, seeking approval from men about my looks. I am not one of those “natural” beauties, either. Only after proper anorexing, intense exercising, exfoliating, shaving, and moisturizing do I become the product. When no one is seeing me naked, I can tell you that there is very little motivation to get up at 6 am in the bitter cold to go pound out 7 miles. This is how the lonely become the slovenly. Seriously, it’s a slippery slope.

I now have the task of seeking out non-gross guys for dates. Actually, I can skip the date part and jump to the rubbing the nasties, but I should take it slow and not let the entire month go to waste. As in, I am no longer sleeping with sleazebags who wear too much hair gel and loud logo belts with big V’s on them. Before I’d meet men through friends of friends, but since I’ve exhausted the supply of men in my circle, I have to come up with a novel way to meet someone decent. Theoretically, I should go where the supply is my set. If I want someone bookish, I should go to a bookstore. If I want someone outdoorsy, I should go rock climbing. But these methods seem so contrived, so forced. I would fall back on my go-to how-to for meeting men(i.e. put on a Wonderbra underneath a midriff top and pair with illegally short shorts and just go running near the Financial District while bouncing around as much as possible), but I kind of have a muffin top right now and it’s just not feasible. Maybe in about 2 weeks, I’ll be able to.

I always did say that life wasn’t worth living past the age of 35. And now that I realize that about 99% of my general satisfaction in life is born of sex, can I really live past 35, when I’m all gross and old? God help me, lest I become one of those cougars who have deluded themselves into thinking they’re MILFs.

This is a pro-ana blog, obviously

What a week.

I've been working like a dog all week, about 12 hours a day, and getting 6 hours of sleep a night and getting up every morning at 6am to work out. Friday night, I went to bed at 4 am and woke up 2 hours later, worked out, and then came back to bed. I'm so OCD about it but is it bad if I'm actually a little proud of my neurotic exercising tendencies? Nothing is ever in moderation with me, of course.

I'm also contemplating applying to medical school. I toyed with the idea back when I was in college, and for a long time, I wanted nothing more than to be a doctor. Somehow I let people tell me how stupid it was(with HMOs, managed care, etcetc, it's MUCH better to go do something else, they said) and I sort of forgot about it for a while. But now, I think I might want to go to med school. I've dated various doctors over the years, and always I've pored over their med school texts because it was so fascinating to me. So I'm exploring my options.

I still haven't fucked anyone, male or female or electronic. It's so weird-- I was having these awful withdrawal symptoms for the first week, I thought it would be a miracle if I made it past day 10. Now sex is an afterthought, like something I used to do because I was weak and stupid and fucking people was the quickest way that I could think of to make things a little better. And I think my productivity has increased about threefold-- I am seriously all about getting my shit done now. I don't procrastinate anymore.

I haven't had a drink in a while either. Those things that come with the territory of sex-- booze, drugs, low self-esteem-- well, I've been avoiding all of that. I feel better about my life than I have in almost a decade. It's really quite the turnaround.

What I was before this experiment, a rigid caricature of myself. I don't ever want to go back there.

Weather is warming up a little, so I'm back to running outdoors again. Yesterday I was near Newberry and I heard a guy say to the girl he was with, "She's TOO skinny. I'm so glad you're not like that." Obviously a sycophantic remark by a chubby chaser meant to placate his chubby lady friend, but I seriously got such a kick out of that. I've also been playing this sicko silent game where I count how many girls I see who are thinner than I am. Usually it's 1 or 2, but if it creeps past that, I skip dinner and go to bed hungry.

I realize how antiseptic my life has become. Completely ascetic, unyielding, judgmental. I really have become a frigid bitch! At least before, I was putting out, so no one could accuse me of being frigid. Now I'm arctic, totally relentless.

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.