Criticism at Large

Perspectives

2010-06-02T16:30:00.003-04:00

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

2010-03-29T10:43:00.002-04:00

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

2010-01-31T12:23:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-10-08T12:13:00.002-04:00

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!!

2008-09-15T19:38:00.003-04:00

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

2008-08-11T22:40:00.002-04:00

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

2008-08-09T22:55:00.003-04:00

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

2008-08-08T19:18:00.003-04:00

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

2008-08-08T13:55:00.003-04:00

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.

2008-08-07T16:48:00.002-04:00

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

$350 an hour girl

2008-08-07T01:10:00.004-04:00

Guess what-- I found out that I absolutely ABHOR minimum wage jobs. I have slowly found my way back into the sex industry once again.

Remember way back when... when I thought stripping was a good idea? I ended up being scared shitless, getting harassed by an ugly, smelly dude named Todd, with blisters all over my 4 inch heels. I did not make the big moolah, let's put it that way. It sucked. I would get irrationally afraid of any dude that would come near me, and I just couldn't "work" the johns enough to get decent tips. I think part of the problem was that every girl dancing was high, and I was not(because I was afraid it would cloud my judgement).

So here I am, back to square one, realizing that the most money to be made in the shortest amount of time is via my body. Hell, I even have the low self-esteem to really accessorize this baby up. Anyway, even though I wanted to go into hooking for a while, somehow, I never found the courage to do it. I was too afraid of getting busted by the popos to really try.

But now, I have my first client lined up for tomorrow. Well, that is, if I don't lose my nerve and actually go through with it.

I posted an ad on CL: "Hot college girl available" under casual encounters.

"Hi, I'm a cute college girl who is tiny, adorable, sweet, fit(5'3" and 100 lbs). I am looking for a hookup with a guy who is generou$ and understanding, and in return, I make a VERY good playmate. Age, race, is not important. Couples are cool, too. Please email me if you are interested!

Ciao"

I daren't post anything under erotic services because that's just ASKING to be arrested.

Anyway, I get flooded with responses, mostly from losers who can't put a sentence together. There is one guy but he has a Jewish last name, and I didn't write back for that reason. Plus, I did some detective work and found out he was a DO, and that turned me off. (Hey, I'm a whore, but I'm still a pretentious whore.) Five hours later, a guy named JAY(the caps are all his) writes, sends a torso shot of himself(pretty cute, actually) and includes his phone number.

So I blocked my number and I called him, and to my surprise: he actually sounds kinda cool. Of course, I am playiing the role of a 22 year old college girl-bait, so I say something like, "I've never done this before and I'm nervous." And then I said my rate was $500

He was like, "Uh... so I don't know if you know this, but the standard going rate is around 200 bucks or so."

Me: "Ohh... Hmmm, really? Well, I have a boyfriend and I don't think I could do this for anything less than $500"

JAY: "How about you come over, and I watch you, and you watch me? No touching."

Me: "How much?"

JAY: "Couple hundred."

Me: "Oh... sorry, I don't think I can do that. But thanks anyway."

Then I hung up.

1 hour later, I get an email from him: "How about $300, watching only?"

I write back: "Hmmmm... I don't think I can go any lower than $350, unfortunately. Well, you can look at my pic and decide. ;)"

I sent him a cheesy pic and he wrote back RIGHT AWAY

"OK. Your place or do you want to travel?"

So basically, this guy is offering me $350 to come over and "watch" him, and for him to "watch" me. That sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?

What's weird is that I googled his phone number and I found an ad he wrote for a "nude model." As in, he wanted to be the nude model. Odd, huh?

So here's where my common sense comes in. I'm going to hire a bodyguard to man me while I do this. He'll be outside the hotel room, but I'm going to pay him maybe $10-$20 an hour, and that still means I'll make $330. Not bad, considering all I'm doing is letting him watch. What he'll be watching, I'm not really sure.

Basically, I am hiring an independent pimp for myself. Kind of funny. I have 3 interviews lined up, and I wonder how many of them will accept the job if I tell them this was for the job of an independent contactor-pimp. I need someone who's listened to too much bad rap music.

Good call

2008-07-29T11:22:00.004-04:00

One of the reasons I lock this blog is because of my affiliation w/Hvd. Mainly, I need good recs from my colleagues and former advisors, and if any of this ever got out or I was properly identified-- well, I can kiss my med school career goodbye.

I think I wrote about this a while ago-- but there was this superhot undergrad who was really sweating me, as the kids would say. (Do kids today even say that? I'm so out of the loop.) Anyway, he'd do cute things like bring apples to my office hours and ask me for career advice(even though I later found out he is pre-law, which is completely unrelated to my field) and basically flirt the fuck out w/me.

It really took a huge amount of restraint for me not to hook up w/him, mainly because he was so cute and charming... and well, he really stroked my ego. And thank GOD I did not do anyhing stupid, because I found out yesterday that a girl in a different department was reprimanded for "inappropriately patronizing" with an undergrad! I hear through friends of mine that she just had dinner w/the sophomore, they did PG-13 things like kiss, etc, and she got in trouble. Can you imagine what would have happened if I would have done what I wanted to do?? OMG.

But I didn't not hook up w/him because I was afraid to get in trouble... mainly, I didn't want to be the laughingstock of all of his friends and I absolutely REFUSED to be classified as anything remotely related to a cougar. I always thought old chicks dating young dudes were pathetic and desperate, and no way would I have let that shame fall upon myself. So it was a pride thing more than anything else. What can I say? Sometimes my pride saves me from totally fucking up my life.

I also have to find a new place to live. My roomate decided that me not fucking him anymore is grounds for evicting me from the apartment. Oh well-- it was too good of a deal to last too long anyway.

Anon

2008-07-26T17:29:00.005-04:00

It's so ridiculously easy to stalk someone nowadays. Even back when I was in college, if I wanted to stalk someone, I had to do it the old-fashioned way: physically following them to see where they were and where they'd go. There was no Facebook, no Myspace, no Googlemaps. I remember when I was obsessed with Steve, I actually borrowed my friend's car and followed him on his date to the Cheesecake Factory. I remember seeing him with a thick-waisted girl with curly hair. I think I waited for him in the car for 2 hours. Damn, I was so desperate back then. Actually, I'm still desperate, but I'm also lazy, which means I don't have the drive to follow anyone anymore.

But anyway, since I've broken things off(TWICE) w/Ben, I really don't want him to know where I live. I know how to be anonymous, but I wasn't thinking about any of this back when I regitered to vote. Now my address shows up on anywho.com. This really, really bothers me. It's not that I'm scared of Ben or anything like that. I don't think he'd bother coming all the way out here from CA. It's just that I firmly believe he has absolutely no right to know where I live, let alone if I'm even alive or dead. I want to be impossible to find. I'd pay someone like a few hundred bucks to erase online traces of me.

I really want to un-register to vote, if I can do such a thing.

Oh, the Hamptons thing. Well, I did find a bikini at TJ Maxx for $9.99, and it looks pretty cute. I believe I purchased it thinking I was going. But the past two times I've been to the Hamptons(Amagansett, South Hampton), I've had a miserable time. It's chockful of Eurotrash and girls who think Juicy is couture. Don't get me wrong, I love pretentious people, but I like my pretensiousness with a degree of solemness and fake dignity, not outright "LOOK AT ME!" coolness. It really irritated me. Plus, everything is so stupifyingly expensive, and I don't want to live on crackers the entire time I'm there. I'm going with Elizabeth, which means I'll have to pay for the incidentals myself. If I was going with a dude, that would be a different story. I wouldn't care how expensive anything was. But a dinner out in Amagansett could mean $100 tab share for just one meal, and I clearly cannot afford that. I think Elizabeth has enough social tact to not put me in such situations in the first place, but talking about money and dealing with money amongst friends is so uncomfortable for me. So that's why I kind of didn't want to go.

Yeah, and the Hamptons really are not that big of a deal. The nightclubs are stupid and have long lines. Last summer, they had TOPLESS dancers dancing in front of everyone. This was at a supposedly high-end club, mind you. We were not at a titty bar. It was so gross. Plus, all the guys wear too much hair gel and pop open their collars like they rule. The Eurotrash contingency really kind of ruins any ambience there may be at the Hamptons.

Off topic, I've been propositioned for a 3some once again by one of my exes. What am I, the go to chick for 3somes?? I don't take offense at this, but I really do feel slighted when the chick in the participating party is severely unattractive. This is the same ex who asked for the same thing a year ago. And two years ago. Both times, he really insulted me.

Also overrated as the Hamptons-- 3somes. I mean, when I first got into it, I was like WHOOO! This is rad. But it's like, even that shit gets old after a while. I've only ever had FMF, so I don't know how MFM will feel like. Maybe it'll turn my entire world upside down and inside out with pure pleasure. Who knows.

OK, I have to go to the gym. I ate way too much today.

None

2008-07-25T14:04:00.003-04:00

I deserve a fucking medal for not killing my mother yet.

Whenever my life starts to improve even the slightest bit-- I can always count on my mother to swoop in and shit all over it. She can't read anything beyond middle-school level, but her one incomprable talent is her timing. She knows exactly when to berate me and sink my self-esteem for maximum impact.

I finally realized why she is such a bitch to me. It's because(and I say this without any conceit, I'm really just stating the facts here) I am prettier than her and I am smarter and much more educated than she is. Oh, and let's not forget my superhuman ability to elude the fat gene she passed onto me. I have managed to stay below a 100 lbs for the majority of my life, through sheer dogged anoerexing and discipline. And she can't fucking stand it.

And her bitterness is something I can't understand. If I had a daughter, I would hope she's prettier than me, smarter than me-- hell, I hope she bypasses the majority of my genes and takes on all of her father's. I want her to be better than me. This is Darwinian, how the survival of our species works. The medical definition of genetic fitness is prognosis for future progeny that is more viable and more advantageous than the filial generation.

But all of this is completely lost on my mother. She is the queen of passive-aggression, and one of her favorite pasttimes is calling me and leaving me these thinly-veiled insults in my voicemail.

I scare myself when I hate my own mother this much. I really have tried, especially these past couple of months, to really forge some kind of relationship with her. But I can't. I'm talking about someone who actually resents me for being better than her. And I can't fucking help it! It took a crazy amount of effort and persistence for me to get out of her trailer park world, and everything I have today, I have because I made it or I got it myself. She hasn't done jack shit for me or my well-being.

Ugh, I hate how this entry has turned into something all about my mother. Sorry.

Yesterday on Newbury Street, I was waiting for Elizabeth so we could have lunch together, and a shady looking guy came up to me and told me he wanted to photograph me. Oh, pukey puke. He gave me his card and even a link to his portfolio, but jesus, if I wanted to be gratuitously naked, I needn't look further than my own apartment, as my own roomie is one of those so called professional
"photographers." But he wants to pay me $100 an hour for me to pose, so I'm thinking about it. I have to talk to my roomate about it first, maybe I can talk him into paying me more.

Anyway, Elizabeth and I are slowly rekindling our friendship. It's weird, because I really looked up to her and she sort of cut me out of her life without telling me what I did to offend her. She still hasn't told me, and I haven't bothered asking, but she was sweet when I saw her yesterday and this weekend she is coming over with last season's stuff she doesn't want. Nothing better than free clothes.

She also invited me to go to East Hampton with her next weekend. I really want to go, but I'm embarassed at not having a decent bikini. What a stupid reason for not wanting to go to the Hamptons, right? I'll probably go, even if I have to wear a $19.99 one piece from Target.

Overdue

2008-07-18T21:54:00.014-04:00

A thousand apologies for my absence. But the good news is, I'm alive. Ha.

I've been having some... blogger's block? It's more like serious depression that makes you think everything you do is stupid, even some meaningless little blog like only 10 people read. I know I reneged on my promise to write short entries more often, but when you feel like shit and kind of want to shoot yourself(again), the last thing you feel like doing is talk about how shitty your life is.

So there's that.

Whenever I get depressed over something, it's usually over something I can't do anything about. These days I've been depressed about my age, how old and soon-to-be-saggy I am becoming. I know, the stupidest thing to get depressed over, I know this. I recognize this. But my speciality is finding misery in even the most natural things, so it's age I've chosen this time around.

I know that probably in 10 or even in 5 years, I'll look back and think, Goddamn, why the fuck was I depressed when I was still relatively hot and still in my 20's? I've been trying to think of what Catherine in X years would tell Catherine at age 28 to do. She would probably tell her to stop being a whiny little bitch and to get her shit together. It worked for a day, but now I'm back to being depressed again.

But mostly I think it's because of my self-enforced celibacy that I've been doing. It's not even really celibacy as it is more... isolation from mankind, really. I go all day and sometimes 4 or 5 days without talking to anyone. Me, the approach-men-at-Hvd-bookstore-and-beg-them-to-fuck-me girl, I'm afraid to talk to men. Sometimes I'll catch one looking at me and I'll become vaguely ill, like a slight reflux thing that I get whenever I look at seafood(I hate seafood). I don't know what caused this, but I think the whole thing with Ben has somewhat traumatized me and--oh, yes--let's not forget that I tried to shoot my brains out not too long ago.

Speaking of which, I might as well get it over with and talk about how I did that. I've been putting it off because I felt so idiotic thinking about my FAILED attempt at offing myself, but it's kind of funny and the sheer dumbassery of it all is nothing if not amusing. So.

Anyway, where I last left off, I had come back from my dead brother's pad, where I found a gun underneath his bed and I FedExed it to myself. You know how some people prepare for hurricanes by stocking cans of food? Well, I knew that one day, possibly one day very soon, I'd be wanting a gun to use on myself. So many times I've said, "God, I wish I had a gun," and I never had access to one. I felt like a macabre kid on Christmas Eve, she of this shady gun that her druggie brother had persumably used once upon a time.

So I got back to Boston and my roomate had signed for the package for me. He was like, "WTF is in that? It's so damn heavy!" I didn't tell him, of course. I never told anyone.

Fast forward to May. I'm feeling like shit, like the world is collasping upon me, I'm such a victim of my self-hatred, blah blah. I drink half a bottle of Scotch, drunk dial the med student I met at the bookstore, feel dejected about everything. You think I'm sad when I'm sober, wait until you see me drunk. It's like Elliot Smith mixed with Edgar Allen Poe crossed with Emily Dickinson X 100. The med student was busy and said he couldn't see me, and that pushed me over the edge.

At this point, I started to get incredibly hopeless about everything. You know how dramatic I am, how I make everything out to be either a zero or a thousand. There is no in between, not ever. It spiraled into something drunk, black, and sinister, and I thought: Shit, I have a gun. I can finally do what I've only been thinking about doing all these years.

To understand what happened next, you must understand my experience with guns: I had none. I had never shot a gun, never cocked it, never aimed it. I could barely identify one. But being the drunken sad, idiotic D. Baggerson that I was, I decided that would not deter me. I promoptly found my gun, found the bullets, and proceeded to Google to learn how to load the bullets to properly kill myself.

The next thing I know, the gun is loaded. I stared at it for a while, crying my eyes out, wanting someone to stop me, maybe. But I didn't tell anyone, so of course, no one could. I then started to think a little through my Scotch-soaked brain: If I shoot myself, there will surely be a bloody mess. I don't want my roomate to be responsible for my bloody body/mess. I should do this in a way that will be least messy, as to spare my roomate the horror of cleaning it all up.

My moments of thoughtfulness manifest themselves in the oddest of moments.

So I took the gun and went into the bathroom. Checked my face in the mirror-- I remember thinking, God, I look so sloppy. Then I laughed a little to myself at how ridiculous I was being-- I was going to die, it didn't matter, duh. I turned off the lights, as I thought a proper death would go nicely with total lack of light. I climbed into the bathtub, tried to lie still, aimed the gun near my head. My reasoning for not aiming directly at my head was that I didn't want headbits to explode everywhere. I wanted a death Mr Clean would approve of. So I aimed near what I thought was my head, anyway. When I pulled the trigger, I heard a loud noise and then I felt nothing for what seemed like an eternity. This ether, this halfway point between death and life-- it was hell. I couldn't move.

Only minutes passed and I felt this throbbing pain and a dull pain in my arm. I had turned all the lights off in the bathroom so it was completely dark, but I felt something slimy and liquidy dripping on my body. Oh, and it was warm, like someone was dipping me in a warm bath. It took me only the next few seconds to realize that I was still alive. I failed.

By this point, I realized what a shitty shitty situation I've thrown myself into. If anyone found out, I knew that I would be locked up instantly. Perhaps what I fear most next to being fat is the thought of being locked up, losing my freedom, being locked up in a mental ward(which has actually happened to me once, but that's another story for another time). The pain in my arm became unbearable, but it was almost euphoric. I can't really describe it.

I couldn't get up from the bathtub, and I couldn't turn on the light. Then I heard my roomate yelling something, and I don't remember what happened next. He called an ambulance, they carried me on a stretcher, and I woke up en route to the hospital. The EMT was like, "What happened?" Immediately I knew I had to come up with something feasible rather than "I tried to kill myself," so I said, "I was playing with a gun and I shot myself by accident." I also saw, from the corner of my eye, what I had done: I shot myself in the upper arm. I missed my head. I now had what looked like a spurting, squirting blood fountain with an arm attached to it on my body. I promptly passed out again, and I woke up in the ER later with the doctor asking me how he could reach my parents.

This is how the facts of my life convinced the good folks at the ER that my shooting was "an accident":

1)I was a Hvd grad student
2)I had my preppiest clothes on-- Earl Jeans and a DVF top. Mind you, I was wearing heels during the entire process, until someone in the ambulance took them off for me. Vanity trails me everywhere, as you can clearly see.
3)My aim was bad, SO BAD, so unbelievably bad, that no one would have guessed I was aiming for my head. This is probably where being a drunken asshole saved me, because had I been sober, I most definitely would have aimed well enough to do something detrimental in the cephalization area. What would have actually happened is my wake up in the middle of the night with terror- kind of nightmare: I would have probably rendered maybe half of my brain useless, and I would be wearing a diaper and dictating this with one of those breathing/typing machines that quadrapelegic people use, in the manner of Stephen Hawking.
4)Again: I was drunk. What do drunk kids do when they get drunk? Apparently play with guns and get hurt. Believable enough for the ER doctors at the best hospital in America(Mass Gen).

What no one tells you when you're watching people do it all the time on TV and in the movies, is that shooting a gun is much, much harder than it looks. It's not point and shoot. There's backward momentum and Newton's third force action-reaction pair to reckon with. It is fucking hard. It takes coordination and kinesthetic awareness.

Anyway, that's enough typing for tonight. As a result of my suicide attempt, I should mention that I can't quite bend my elbow or contract my bicep without getting some sharp pains. They told me I had to start physical therapy, but guess what-- my school insurance doesn't really cover it, and I thought physical therapy was kind of for losers. I am wrong about the latter conclusion. I should look into getting some therapy, for both my arm and the contents of my head.

Will write more later. It's really aching.

Story #1

2008-06-11T00:50:00.002-04:00

I keep putting off writing entries until I have more time... which probably won't be for a while. So I have decided to write more frequent mini entries, so writing about what happened to me wouldn't be such a colossal task.

So the most obvious question: How did I get my hands on a gun?

No, I didn't go buy it. No, I didn't steal it. Here is what happened.

When my brother died last year, I went to his apartment before my parents got there. I went through his stuff, mostly to clear his drug paraphenalia(because as upset as my parents were over his death, to have to get rid of drugs and various related accoutrements would have been just shitty for my parents). I flushed all the weed down the toilet, threw away all the bongs and rolling papers. And then I came across his handgun under his bed, with a case of bullets and adjacent to a box of condoms.

I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next: I packed it in a box and shipped it back to Boston for myself. Why the fuck I would do that, I still do not understand fully. It was just instinctive, because I knew I didn't want my parents to see it, but I didn't want to throw it away, either. I wanted to keep it, because something inside me told me that I would never have this easy access to a gun ever again. So I went to Kinko's, bought a box and some bubble paper, and packed it and shipped it overnight to my apartment. So those of you wondering if you can ship a gun and some bullets via FedEx: why, yes. you can.

And that's how I got my hands on a gun.

Quick update

2008-06-01T15:02:00.002-04:00

I've been putting off writing an entry so that I could write one that properly reflects the changes I think I've made in my life. I think about it when I'm running, when I'm studying, when I lie awake at night.

I'm leaving my PhD program. I haven't officially told my department yet, but considering that I've not lifted a finger in doing anything department-related-- I think they have a clue. I'm taking my MCAT(medical college admissions test)and I'm sending in applications soon thereafter. I'm up to my ears in organic chemistry and physics.

Another change: I'm talking to my parents again. I have to tell that story when I have more time-- but suffice it to say that when shit hits the fan, the only ones you can really count on are your family. Forget apparent friends and affectionate acquaintances-- they don't really count. I found out when I had another breakdown last week.

I turned down a proposal from a guy I would have given my right boob for even just a few months ago. It wasn't as exceedingly hard as I thought it would be. I still haven't told anyone about my lame suicide episode. I'll also need more time to tell THAT story soon.

I was dragged to the stupid Sex and the City movie-- and I hated every.damn.minute. of it. OMG. It was torture for my brain. And the fact that it was 2.5 hours long--!! I spotted a few pussy-whipped dudes in the audience, but I think I was the only female not squealing and yelling when Carrie was abandoned. I have so many bones to pick with this show... but how stupid, STUPID is it that she keeps calling him "Big"? Ugh. I fucking hated the show, hate the characters, and very much hated the movie.

Oh, and someone got me a dog. I named her Mischa and just the thought of no one else being able to take care of her-- it keeps me from shooting my brains out. Haha. Just kidding. Well, sort of. I don't have that gun anymore anyway. '

I'll write more when I have more time. But it's not all bad now. Things are slowly looking up.

2008-05-29T21:24:00.002-04:00

Not dead. I'm going through some serious life changes, not all of them bad. Will update soon.

Still alive(ha.ha.)

2008-05-10T08:40:00.001-04:00

Still alive(ha. ha.)
Hi, I'm still here. I realize how ominous it seems when I post an entry regarding an attempted suicide and then don't post an update. So here is a perfunctory update.

I really appreciate the comments, esp Dan Ward's. I like his e-persona, which is weird, considering I don't know anything about him at all. It's funny people are afraid to say what they want to me because they think I'll react to it badly, but I can recognize sage words when I see them.

One thing that I don't agree with though is the concept that age( or its corollary, time) will make things better in and of itself. The truth is, a lot of things don't get fucking better, it's simply that we have conditioned ourselves to accept the formerly unacceptable. Most people will merely choose to stop banging their heads on the wall instead of repeatedly injuring themselves, but me? I don't know how to stop. Or if I even have the capacity to stop.

My life consists of only vapid shit, I completely agree. Diet, Exercising, procreating just because it's one more thing to accomplish... it all means nothing, ultimately. That's what drove me to suicide when I began to see how circuitous it all was. That feeling that things might one day get better-- this feeling was the only thing that gave me hope, that allowed me to continue for just one more day. And then one night, it went away.

I wish I could trust anyone enough to talk to them honestly. But I have this continuous struggle inside my head, this sick game I play with people, in beating the system, in exploiting the weaknesses in structure, finding loopholes. How did I manage to walk out of the ER with a bullet lodged inside myself, bloody and bewildered? How the hell did I talk my way out of the psych ward? It shouldn't have happened. I should have let myself be helped.

But if there's one thing this ordeal has taught me, it is that killing yourself is fucking hard. It's not easy tampering with biology, this will to live. Even as I was preparing to witness heaven or hell, it took something supernaturally strong for me to pull that trigger. There was a brief window of time, probably about 10 seconds or so(but it felt like hours) where I wasn't sure if I was dead or alive. Like, I couldn't feel anything, but I had this vague sensation of dizziness and things becoming gradually out of my reach. I sort of began to panic, if death was this limbo of here and not-here, if death was this state of uncertainty. I was after a final ending, not some tenuous maybe/maybe not.

I feel so stupid even writing about this. It's not like I actually coded and was brought back to life or something. I was just stupid and didn't do it right. All I know is, death is not as easy a route as you would think.

Something

2008-05-04T20:04:00.004-04:00

I tried to kill myself two days ago. I failed, obviously.

What's laughable is that I genuinely, sincerely tried this time. I didn't tell anyone about it, I certainly didn't blog about it, I didn't even hint to anyone so they could fortuitously come "save" me at the last minute.

This suicide shit is much, much harder than it looks or seems. I salute anyone who can do it successfully.

I don't really feel like going into the details(mostly because I hate being reminded that I failed even at this) but maybe I'll write about it in a few days...

I can't believe I managed to stay out of the psych ward at the ER. Those idiots were so stupid, they believed what happened to me was an accident. They should have strapped me into a straightjacket immediately upon first sight. Yay for another case of outsmarting the system, go me.

What finally made me do it was the despondency I felt on Friday. Just... this grave realization that my life was never going to get better, no matter how much I wanted it to. That I was never going to fall in love again, I was never going to have kids, start my career, have a real life. I was chasing after something that would never materialize.

I can't believe I'm just... out here, integrated amongst society when all I want to do is strap a bomb on my chest and detonate.

But at least I still have my freedom.

That's something, at least.

Yes.

2008-04-27T20:35:00.002-04:00

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.

2008-04-26T12:38:00.003-04:00

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

2008-04-24T14:40:00.005-04:00

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

2008-04-22T14:16:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-21T10:43:00.001-04:00

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

2008-04-13T18:02:00.002-04:00

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

2008-04-05T00:16:00.008-04:00

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.

What have I done?

2008-03-29T16:54:00.003-04:00

I went to Whole Foods today and saw the most gorgeous man ever. He was 2 persons ahead of me in line, and he was laughing and talking easily w.the cashier, who seemed to know him somewhat. As he signed his receipt, he smiled brilliantly and said(albeit affectedly) "Ciao." It was like a real Italian "Ciao" not a dirty American trying to look cool kind of "Ciao." Ciao.

So when I got to the front of the line, I asked the cashier, sheepishly: "Uh... that guy with the leather jacket... does he come here all the time?" She got this little glint in her eye and said he came in there at least twice a week. Then she said, "Do you want me to tell him you're interested? I can tell him next time he comes in." I stammered a little and blushed so hard, I felt like my head was getting ready to explode. I think I nodded.

Then I paid for my groceries and she called out my name, saying "You forgot to give me your number!" Still blushing, I wrote my number on the back of my receipt and gave it to her.

And now it occurs to me that: 1)I have done something so stupid, so desperate, so high-schoolish. What the fuck did I think was going to happen, that we'd have some type of meet-cute? He went there to shop for food, as normal people do, not to be harassed by some strange girl. I bet he's going to laugh about it with his friends when he gets my number. 2)If he's smart enough to turn the receipt over, he will see that I have purchased organic tampons, quinah, fat-free yogurt. Ugh, how humiliating.

I blame this on my lack of sex. Not having sex is making me act like some desperate banshee.

incoherence

2008-03-28T19:04:00.003-04:00

Another thing that happens when you abstain from all forms of sex is that you start having spontaneous orgasms in your sleep. I think I had quite a few last night, and I woke up this morning feeling like I should feel bad about myself-- and surprise!-- there was no one else in my bed. This is like losing weight after binging on chocolate. What a crazy side effect from celibacy.

My rash has cleared. I bought some soap. I have smooth skin again.

I read a commentary online that had me saying, "I knew it!" at every five minute intervals. Basically, the gist of it was that the old saying mothers don't prefer one child over another-- that this is bullshit. Given that children have different personalities, different nuances of behavior-- it would be unnatural for mothers not to have a favorite child. Of course, no one talks about it because it's so un-PC. It reminds me of another theory I read in an obscure trade journal a few years ago, which said that the reason black people are such better athletes is because...(bear with me, this is rather offensive) back in the slavery days, they were "bred" like animals, that is, for maximum power output and form. The sickly ones died en route or faded to the sidelines. Very, totally un-PC, but it makes sense, if you think about it.

Growing up, my mother was so fucking mean to me, and oddly sycophantic to my brother. My brother really amounted to nothing, aside from a prodigious pot habit and a penchant for getting arrested for crimes most people get away with(petty theft, solicitation, that kind of thing). She's still mean to me, but it bothers me less than it used to, partly because now as an adult, I see her for the loser that she is. Slams are meaningless when it comes from a person for whom I have no respect. The last thing she said to me was that I should think about getting implants because no one will want me with such a "flat" chest. Hey, I'd rather be flat and thin than wobbly with udders, fat rolls protruding. Big boobs do not count if you're a fat ass. But who the fuck says that to their own kid? It's like a father saying to his son, "You have a tiny dick. Get a penis pump." Completely inappropriate and gauche.

So guess what? Your mother does have a favorite child. It might or might not be you. Who cares?

Elizabeth is avoiding me for some reason. I can't think of anything I've done to offend her. Maybe I've just become one of those people who are insufferable because they talk about their problems all the time.

Off to the gym. Let's see what looks of abject hatred I can round up from the women sporting muffin tops.

Luck

2008-03-26T17:42:00.004-04:00

The world as we know it is about to end.

In an odd twist of fate that could only happen in movies(and in a life where I feel like I'm in a movie all the time), I won $500 on a scratch off ticket. !!!!!! Exactly $500. Not enough to go buck wild and have a shopping spree, but just enough to cover my ass for rent.

Crazy.

This must be the universe telling me to go strong w/my celibacy vow. Thank god I won't have to try to barter my body for a roof over my head anymore! Now I can just go back to starving in peace. I'm set until the end of April.

fuck.

2008-03-25T23:34:00.008-04:00

I'm broke. I don't know how I'm going to pay next month's rent. I've maxed out 3 credit cards, and I applied for 1 more today, but I was DENIED. Big surprise.

Luckily, my roommate is a doughy, dateless dude who will probably accept 1 lay in exchange for the rent. He actually owns the condo we occupy, so my rent($500 a month) is really just peanuts to him. He basically told me in not so many words that I got the room because of my looks. The funny thing is, when I came to see the place, I was dressed in tattered jeans and a torn shirt, looking grubby and gross and spent, AND I also came w/my fuckbuddy(the 3 some dude). How he would immediately assess that I was hot, when I looked like that, is beyond me. But whatev. Many of a dire situation of mine has been saved by some desperate asshole. He's just one in a string of losers I find useful at times like this.

I really fucking hate being poor. I grew up poor. I thought I would be somewhere else by now. I can't believe I am 28 years old and barely getting by on a nominal stipend, not being able to buy basic toiletries and foregoing items most people would consider a necessity(e.g. hair conditioner). I don't have enough money to buy soap, so I've been washing myself with dishwashing liquid from the kitchen sink. Now I have dry patches all over my skin, my hair is falling out, and I nearly wept as I getting ready for bed. Seriously, it sucks. Why didn't I just fucking go to law school? I would have been rich by now. Fuckfuckfuck!

I don't mind going hungry. Hunger is good discipline. But when I don't have enough money to buy new shoes, and I have to wait for my friends to tire of their clothes so I can wear their castaways-- it just becomes ridiculous. What did I do to deserve this shit of a life, I have no idea.

When I was w/Ben, I was living like a queen and didn't have to worry about anything. And that's been my MO-- find a rich guy, move in, and let him take care of me. But even that game is getting old, and I really am wondering when and how I became such a loser in life.

FYI, my groinal/vaginal/thigh area is entirely chafed and red. Palmolive dishwashing liquid is not meant to be used in lieu of body wash.

I hope this rash thing goes away. I need it to go away.

So Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, in all sense of the word. Ugh.

I wish I knew the seedy, enterprising individuals on that high-priced escort service Spitzer was busted for. Seriously, that would solve all of my problems right now. And I bet my racket could be, "Harvard grad student by day, sexy whore at night!" But men who frequent such services probably ARE around women affiliated w/Harvard. They're probably working w/them or married to them. They probably want to be around stupid bitches who think Obama is who we're looking for in Iraq. Fine, I can wing the bimbo bit, too. I'm good at that. Just fucking give me money! I need money.

Whoever said money doesn't solve anything is wrong, wrong, wrong. Wrong a 1000 times. My life has been happiest when I'm surrounded by money or someone with access to money.

Every platitude ever uttered by mankind is wrong: money does buy happiness, the best things in life aren't free, and hard work does not fucking get you anywhere. Just single and broke at 28, that's where it takes you.

What will I do w/myself? And the day after that, and after that?

2008-03-24T21:35:00.004-04:00

With my self-imposed celibacy, I have tons of time, so much time, now I can even update this little obscure blog o'mine.

Seriously, not having sex saves me so much hassle, mainly freeing me from rigorous grooming and feminine rituals. I don't have to tend to my pubic hair as often(because I shave every.day, sometimes even 2X a day) but this morning, I didn't and that saved me a whole 15 minutes, yay. And I also usually agonize over my lingerie choice for the day, but today, I'm wearing a sports bra and ratty RDO panties. RDO is Red Days Only, if you must know. And again, that saved me about 10 minutes this morning. All in all, I have gained about half an hour in my morning just by deciding not to fuck any gross dudes for a while.

Another relief is the lack of UTIs. I get them so chronically and it makes me so bitchy and uncomfortable. Oh, I can lay off the probiotics for a while.

Elizabeth assumed that I would be using sex toys to "take the edge off"(HER euphemism, not mine) and I don't know if I ever talked about this before, but I abhor vibrators. I've always found them to be so... mechanical and not at all sexy; it's so utilitarian that I might well use my Sonicare in there(I haven't). Plus the mere concept of... vibration is wholly unerotic. When was the last time anyone's dick ever vibrated? Yeah, exactly.

This no sex thing has also rendered me idle at nights as well. I mean, I never realized how much of my 6pm - 11pm hours were devoted to sex and its associates: the prelude to fucking(dinner & drinks), fucking, or the aftermath of fucking(talking, cuddling, suffering of UTIs). Geez, where the hell did I find the time? No wonder I was tired constantly.

So 29 more days to go. If this doesn't work, I can always eliminate carbs from my diet and see if that makes me feel better about myself(it probably won't).

An experiment

2008-03-24T09:20:00.002-04:00

I'm going to be celibate for 30 days and see if that will improve my quality of life. I've been so damn miserable that anything, anything at all, would be welcome change.

And just when I decide to not have sex, my face cleared up last night and I look luminous. No one will enjoy it except for myself for the next month.

One saturday down

2008-03-22T12:36:00.003-04:00

Ugh, of all the shameful things in the world... catching an STD from a gross old guy has to top them all.

Chlamydia is fairly easy to treat, and one dose of Antibiotics is all it takes. It's really the mildest form of STD you can catch, actually. I also got tested for everything else under the sun, and I'm all clear.

Last night, I had a date with this guy Jack, whom I really liked a long time ago, before I moved to Palo Alto. We were set up by my friend Elizabeth, and I stopped returning his calls only because I was dating two other guys at the same time and I was being a picky bitch. Anyway, we finally managed to plan to get together last night after weeks' worth of emails, and I was starting to get ready 2 hours before I was due to meet him when I noticed the BIGGEST ZIT IN THE WORLD right near my nose. I tried concealer, foundations of 3 shades, and I even bought some hemmeroid[sic] cream to try to make it less noticeable, but I simply could not disguise it at all. And yes, I'd rather preserve my vanity than see a guy I've been wanting to see for months, so 5 minutes before I was supposed to leave, I had to call and cancel on him. He got pissed off tacitly and pretty much told me to go fuck myself with "Ah, well, I guess I'll just see you around then." I told him I had a medical emergency(hey, clogging of the pores is serious) but he thought I was blowing him off.

Anyway, I told Elizabeth about it and she begged me to tell him. But which is less mortifying-- canceling for a stupid, trivial reason such as a pimple, or lying about said pimple and exaggerating it into a medical condition? Somehow, things always seem to go awry between the two of us.

So Mark and I are starting to talk again. We went to a local gay bar, he bought me a lot of shots, and I think he thinks all is forgiven. It's not, of course, because I collect my grudges like women collect shoes. I will not allow myself to be as vulnerable as I was before, and Mark can consider us closer than we really are, that's fine. We did end up going to a dive jazz bar, where doughy, dateless dudes came on to me like crazy. There was one man who was so stoned out of his mind that he tried to dry hump me and that was really disgusting.

And OMG, I live with the owner of the biggest penis in the world. Seriously, that thing is so huge that it must be anatomically uncomfortable. Of course, I know this because I fucked my roomate when I was depressed(as in, having another usual day) and I got to experience a fraction of the pain childbirth is supposed to bring. Seriously, that thing was a cariacature of a penis. Anyway, I told him I had chlamydia and he was like, "I don't care," so we had sex and it was ho-hum. I guess he's always relied on the fortitude of his girth and hasn't really developed, technically speaking.

My apologies for the spelling mistakes in this post. I got a new laptop and I'm having trouble typing...

2008-03-18T16:20:00.001-04:00

I had an affair with a married man and all I got was this lousy case of chlamydia(that, and a cheapo bracelet that gave me a bad wrist rash).

Underpaid mistress

2008-03-15T18:39:00.004-04:00

Lately, I've been seriously pissed off for many reasons, but the one that tops them all is so stupid that I'm almost embarrassed to write about it here.

Since I turned 28 in Dec, I've been obsessing over babies. Before my last birthday, kids were something I wanted theoretically, but practically-- I was undecided. I'm going to assume I'm just like everyone else and again, assume, that I will be miserable when I'm barren and old and I have not yet propagated my genes.

Mark, my best friend, is gay and a few years older than me (35, to be exact). I always joke about how I'd fall in love with him if only my ego would let me. He makes flirty, innocuous remarks too. That's our dynamic.

Anyway, about a week ago, I seriously asked him to give me some sperm if I'm still single by the time I'm 30, which is a little less than 2 years from now. I thought my asking was only proprietary, a nominal "May I?", given our deep friendship and closeness. So you can imagine how heartbroken I was when he demurred.

He wouldn't say why either, until I pressed and pressed, and finally, he said: "I think you would fuck up our kid irrevocably. And you have so many mental issues that I wouldn't feel comfortable bringing a child into such a toxic environment."

So basically, I'm fucked up enough to be entertaining and to go drinking with, but too much to have his babies.

I shouldn't be so pissed, but hey-- truth hurts. Mark is right. I know this, but this doesn't lessen my hostility towards what is presumably a difficult situation to resolve in less than 2 years. But always Mark and I would joke about getting married, shit like that-- and to be hit with his low opinion of me really hurt.

And of course, as with all things shitty, I have to find something else to distract me from the shittiness. I started an affair with a tenured professor in my dept. It's not my former advisor, it's this short, Jewish, balding dude whom I wouldn't look at twice, but his accomplishments have rendered him fuckable. He was just at the right place at the right time, basically. Nothing special. Just another ugly, brilliant Harvard professor who barely makes $80,000 a year, whose only claims to fame are articles in obscure trade journals.

It's incredible how amazed he is at the inane things guys my age would just shrug off-- he was very appreciative of my matching lingerie, my waxed ladyparts, my skin, which, according to him, is the "smoothest skin ever." He told me he loves the fact that I'm thin, but Jennifer L0pez is "thin" to him, because his wife is grossly obese. In other words, my hotness is wasted on a man with such low standards of attractiveness. He knows how to give good oral, though. And I haven't reciprocated once, because I didn't have to and I didn't want to.

So with my Plan B backfiring, and this stupid, sordid affair I'm having w/the short bald professor has eaten up quite a bit of my time. The sex is v. good, probably because he is so conscientious about pleasing me. I hate myself afterwards, though.

I'm giving this another week, because I don't know how long I can keep boning a bald, aging father of four who doesn't even have the money to buy me nice stuff(he bought me a barfy bracelet from...Walmart. I had to bite my lips to keep myself from laughing).

I don't know if Mark and I will ever resume our friendship. How can I be around someone who thinks so poorly of me? I have such few friends and losing Mark this way was the worst possible thing ever.

2008-03-13T00:20:00.001-04:00

Still alive. Haven't quit blogging. Will update sometime before the week is over, I promise....

Black

2008-02-26T12:16:00.005-05:00

I passed out this morning as I was getting off the treadmill. I couldn't finish my 6 miles, I could barely pound out 5.66! My heart started racing painfully and throbbing and I couldn't see anything anymore and the next thing I know, some girl is yelling, "Call 911!" This is the 2nd time this has happened to me at the school gym, and I might have to pay for a membership at a different gym so people don't think I'm some crazy 'rexic running nut(which I am, but I don't want everyone to know about it!). Plus I keep getting these looks (only from women) of abject hatred, and I don't want to deal with all this drama when I work out. Just let me do my thing and leave me alone, damnit.

I'm sure my body hates me. I overeat once every three days, and when I'm not starving, I'm drinking gallons of cold water or reapplying lip gloss. Mark saw me last night and he was like, "You know how some girls take it too far with the being thin thing? You're there. I think if you lose any more, you'll be unattractive. You're starting to look asexual." I know his comment was meant to deter me, but it made me soooo happy that he said that. Unf, who the fuck cares if I look asexual. Sex is only a poor substitute for what I'm really after.

Mark and I are going to Paris this summer, we decided. I'm tired of waiting to be in love so I can visit Paris again, and who better to go w/than Mark? He is so fucking adorable it drives me crazy sometimes. If I'm not married by the time I'm 35, we are going to have kids together. He's tall, blatantly good-looking, and 2X smarter than me. Of course I want his sperm.

OK, I'm supposed to meet Elizabeth for lunch soon and I need to get ready. I'm having iced tea, of course. And she has some last season's clothes for me, including a loose Phillip Lim sweater I've been coveting since forever! I now have an outfit for my dykecon Thursday.

I wasted my youth when I was young

2008-02-25T10:49:00.002-05:00

OMG. I just came home from my section and the Swedish freshman invited me to his 19th birthday party. I about died.

Him: "So you should totally come to my party. You can be my guest of honor."
Me: "How old are you exactly?"
Him: "I'm three days away from nineteen!"[he said proudly]
Me: "OMG. I could be your damn mother."
Him: "No way! Unless you had me at like, age three!"
Me: "No, seriously. I'm almost 30."
Him: [silence]
Me: "Yeah, see? I'm too old to party with you."
Him: [he does not disagree]

I ate too much last night and I feel sooo gross this morning. I didn't get up in time for my 6 am run, but I'm dashing to the gym to torch some calories. And I'm officially 'rexing today.

I am disgusting. I'm almost 30. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I need my youth back.

Beds

2008-02-24T22:00:00.002-05:00

I went to the Boston Public Library today(gross, I know, but there was a book I couldn't find anywhere else). Some guy, normal by outward appearance, looked at me straight in the eye as I was leaving. I smiled at him, though I don't know why I did that. My stance on smiling is a firm anti. But I did it anyway. Then he said, "Oh my god, Hi!" and ran after me, still holding his unchecked-out books. How do I know they were unchecked-out? Because the alarm rang as he came after me, and two security guards had to stop him. It was pretty funny. Shame though, because he was pretty cute. But probably a bum, if he's checking books out at the public library.

I was snowed in on Friday night, and I ended up having my 1st 3some of 2008(MWW). It was pretty hot. I think the key to a good 3some is to be the star of the event. As in, both parties should concentrate on pleasing only you and the rest is irrelevant. The girl is some chick we met at a bar(kinda gross, I know) but she was a looker, and that's pretty much all that matters when you're looking for a 3some participant. The man is my annoying but buff fuckbuddy(he of the red roses and the offending Hershey's chocolate). I was trying to phase him out slowly, but so much for that plan. He called me four times today and texted me three times. What's hilarious is that Friday was his first 3some ever, and now he thinks he's some sort of a sex maven. I think he feels like a stud, having bedded two women at once. Though he really was more of a watching participant instead of an active, participating participant. He got to rub her tits. I think that was v. exciting for him.

Anyway, he's been sending me these barfy text msgs, obviously failed attempts at trying to get me aroused. Example: "I want to spend all day eating you out." That is NOT sexy, that just makes me think he has no life!(he doesn't.) He's been promoted to an intolerable state of annoyance from beginner's pest. I wish he'd leave me alone.

I've been lax about acquiring that beautiful, non-psycho girlfriend. I'm going to a big dykecon on Thursday in Jamaica Plain, so maybe I'll meet one there.

I like blondes. I don't know why. I like blonde, stacked, artificially processed-looking. The Denise Richards-type. And the dumber, the better. Exactly the opposite of how I like my men. And the nipples must be pink, no brown. I hate brown nips.

Time for bed.

So stupid(me)

2008-02-22T16:45:00.002-05:00

This article has officially freaked me out. I should not have thrown Ben away. He was perfect husband material(aside from his rage-head tendencies): Harvard/Harvard Law, old money, taller than 6'0. OMG. I let this one go, how could I have done that?

Am angry at myself. God, I'm such a loser sometimes.

Mark keeps telling me that I have to hurry up and finish my doctorate so I can move to NY, where all the good men are. Yeah, right! If anything, being in Boston is doing wonders for my ego(I am considered supermodel-hot here, but by NY standards, I will just be demoted to "cute." If I move to LA, I'll just be another average-looking chick) and I can't fathom meeting more men in NY. I mean, NY isn't a single-woman friendly city.

All in all, Boston is not a bad place to be if you are a woman. And if you weren't psycho like me and hadn't burned all of her bridges, then you're in the right town to meet smart, well-educated guys.

But seriously, I have run out of men here. I've dated everyone and their college roommate, plus random people who poked me on Facebook. I'm out of options now.

And I'm so fucking sick of internet dating. Darwin dating was fun, for like, one week. I refuse to cower to Match.com, and only creeps ever message me on OKCupid.

And approaching strangers in Boston is not only considered bad form, but grounds for a fierce ass-kicking. I never approach men, anyway. Plus, it's always the assholes who hit on me at Whole Foods and Peet's.

OMGOMG. I should have married Ben. I should have.

Venus

2008-02-20T23:52:00.004-05:00

Today was a better day. Almost any day is better day than yesterday.

I had lunch with Mark today. We went to a cute little bistro on Beacon, and we sat next to one of Mitt Romney's kids. I didn't know who he was, but Mark knew him and said hello. He was cute.

Ben's mother called me today. I've only met her twice in my life(once in 1997, and once in 2007) so I was surprised when she called. Summarily, she berated me for my choices and told me that Ben was too good for me. Ben, ever the Mama's boy, obviously went to her crying and bitching about how I left him and how he's irreparably broken inside. What a pussy. I was polite and told her that whatever happened between Ben and I is none of her business, and to please refrain from ever contacting me again. It was surreal. I can't believe Ben isn't embarrassed by any of this.

I was talking to Mark today when he said: "You really don't have any vice, except men, do you?" So true. How well he knows me! All of my problems can be traced to one man or to another. Why am I so obsessed with men?

I found this ad on Craigslist about amateur erotic modeling. Some dude is paying $200 an hour for "hot, normal women" to pose erotically and for the copyrighted images. It was taken down about an hour after it was posted, but I emailed the guy and asked him how serious it was. He said it was very serious, and I sent him a few photos, and he said he would pay me $300 an hour for me to pose for him if I let him take an unlimited amount of pictures.

I told Mark about this, and it completely freaked him out. He begged me not to do it, but I still really want to. Part of it is the money, but mostly for the fun of it. He was all like, "Are you crazy? What if they end up on the internet? You can kiss your career in academia goodbye." That may be true, but maybe I don't mind. Or maybe I'm bored and I'm looking for trouble again.

I ate too much at dinner and lunch. I feel like an absolute sausage. I'm getting my period and I'm turning into one ravenous, hormonal bitch. It's times like these when I'm sorry I don't have a man to nag and emasculate. That always makes me feel better.

Always 3'o'clock in the morning of my mind

2008-02-20T02:32:00.003-05:00

The thing is, for the past few days, I've been punishing myself in my dreams.

Every night, I revisit something horrible I've done to someone who didn't deserve it. And I feel guilty, inhuman, indecent. I'm struck with this heaviness that only comes from being a shitty person, someone filled with pure evil. Then I wake up, feel like killing myself, and have a shit.ty day. This has been going on for the past 3 days. They don't even feel like 3 separate days, really. Just a really long continuation of misery with no breaks for sleeping and eating.

I never forgive. Never. I don't forget, either. My system of memory is relentless. I hold onto every single injustice, every single stupid jab that every passing person has inflicted on me. And I take it, stab myself with it, and pour acid and salt all over the wounds. Somehow, masochism works for me. I wish it didn't.

I will always be a self-hating person. No amount of therapy or love will change that. It's easier for me if I accept it and look for other ways of filling the void, like sex. Sex is good. Sex fools me at least for a few minutes, and I can think I'm normal and it feels derivative, unremarkable, that I am having sex. This is what everyone does. Then it's over and I have to punish myself all over again.

Classes are a haze, so are the students who are in my section this semester. I don't remember anyone's name, I just point to the few people whose hands perk up every time I ask a stupid, esoteric question. There is this one kid, a blonde, a very Swedish looking boy, who has this metaphysical take on everything I say. He brought me a red apple and said something cute today, but I was too depressed to actually enjoy it and I ended up throwing it away. But still, work goes on. Teaching goes on. Memorizing rote lines goes on.

Last night, I dreamt that I was taking my life and living it in every pedestrian way, and somebody yelled "Cut!" from above. I started to laugh, because it all made crystal-clear sense to me now. How every emotion and violence and depth I've felt has been a farce, nothing more than exaggeration of my senses, purely manipulated for dramatic effect, editorially enhanced. It made sense! Of course people didn't live this way. This has been just a bad movie. Then I woke up and it was still filming.

It's almost 3 am here, freezing. I have two sweaters on, but still my body isn't capable of generating enough warmth to keep me comfortable. I haven't eaten for two days.

It's never warm enough.

It was...

2008-02-14T18:05:00.003-05:00

It was my fuckbuddy. He stopped by this morning to drop them off, and my roommate let him in.

Gave the whole mess to the elderly lady next door. She said "God Bless you" and told me I was an angel. If only she knew...

What the fuck?

2008-02-14T13:01:00.003-05:00

Ok, I just came home from class and there is a bouquet of red roses and a box of Hershey's pot of gold chocolates on my desk. Clearly from an individual who does not know me well, given that I: 1)hate, hate, hate red roses 2)hate Hershey's chocolate.

Who did this? So far, my only suspect is my roommate. There is no card.

Maybe these are from Ben? Kind of as a "fuck you, you cunt" Valentine's day homage? I don't know how he would know my new address, though. I don't think they're from Stephen either, this is just not his style. I have to point to my roommate. There is no one else.

I hope he doesn't think he's getting anything out of this. I have half a mind to give these away to the nice elderly lady next door. She's very sweet and welcomed me into the building, and I bet these would make her day. Right now, they are just sitting on my desk, mocking me, driving me crazy.

Inside

2008-02-13T23:21:00.006-05:00

OMG, I hate my mom. I know I've said it a thousand times, but the day she dies will be the day I finally get some peace. I can't do anything after I talk to her on the phone because she makes me so tired yet I feel like clawing someone's eyes out. I rage, but my body feels so heavy and sluggish.

I wonder if she didn't breastfeed me as a baby. How is it possible that a daughter can hate its own mother so much? Seriously, is it my brain chemistry that's fucked up, or did she do something to warrant this? I know she fucked me up from age 6 until 17, but what about before that, where my memory doesn't have any tape? I have to believe that a 6 year old kid doesn't wake up one morning and decides to hate her mother.

With my psychotic, impulsive tendencies, it is a testament to my ability to summon superhuman restraint that I haven't physically harmed her. Seriously, I hate her that much. It's carnal, really.

Whatever it is, it makes me hate myself even more. I don't like hating her. I strongly believe in karma, and I don't want my own daughter to hate me, too. Since my brother died, I've made a sincere effort to tolerate my mother more, but I have gone beyond my limit. I can't do it any longer.

God, I feel like looking up the combination of drugs Heath Ledger took and promptly mixing my meds like I shouldn't be. I can't escape from this dungeon of despair. I feel like I'll be here forever.

Disgusting on all levels

2008-02-13T21:22:00.004-05:00

My life lately has been a string of one crappy event after another, I just haven't felt like writing about it. Not that I've only written about happy stuff before, but the last few days have been so awful.

I'll try to recap, though. I saw Stephen, the former love of my life. He took the train from NY to see me, and it was a complete disaster. I didn't know what I was expecting-- him to want me, I guess? Yes, that is what I wanted. We've been exchanging smutty pictures of ourselves all week, and then he shows up on my doorstep, whisks me away to dinner, and tells me he has a girlfriend. "Would you be ok with it, though? If we just hooked up while I was here?" he said, so boldly. I died a little inside. Had I meant that little to him? He chepened our 7 year relationship with a single sentence.

I didn't say anything, and told him I had to go to the bathroom. I calmly walked to the back, washed my face, turned off my phone, and walked out of the restaurant with my head held high and averting everyone's gaze. I have not opened his emails or texts or voicemails. I want him to no longer exist for me.

I should be able to get over this. I've had a lot of practice because he's disappointed me so many times before. But this time, he obliterated any hope I had of us getting back together. Ever.

I thought to myself, I don't have a reason to live anymore. Then I got pissed off for feeling that way, tried to replace that feeling with something else equally sinister but more palatable, and engaged in some self-punishment--i.e. I had sex with men who were gross. And I didn't even get paid for it.

I'm seriously thinking about charging for this. It's like sitting on an oil well. Only I'm letting people drill it for free. I won't look like this forever, either. Maybe I could be a choosy hooker, like only do it with guys who aren't gross. Is there such a thing? But then again, I can't stand the sex/degradation combo. It nearly made me vomit every time I had to go to work when I was a stripper-in-training. It also made me want to kill myself even more. Do I dare open that can of shittiness again?

And my aptmate is incredibly annoying. He leers at me, and I caught him taking pictures of me when I was making breakfast this morning as I was puttering around the kitchen. I had just gotten up and I was wearing a wife beater w/no bra, so clearly, my nips were showing. And he took a picture of me like that! He said he was trying to capture "art" but what he really wanted to do is probably go in his room and beat off to them, that asshole. He then offered to pay me to pose for him, because he is a "serious photographer." Oh, barf, barf, barf.

Time for a shower and Project Runway.

Truth at first light

2008-02-09T23:58:00.000-05:00

Well, I think my fuckbuddy has transitioned into the maybe-boyfriend territory. He helped me move all my shit, in this dismal weather. I'm not sure Ben would have done the same.

It was kind of weird because I wanted to leave after we were done last night, around 1 am. He literally begged me to stay, saying, "Please? I never get to spend the night with you!" Uh... well, I didn't really feel like trekking all the way to Cambridge anyhow, so I did spend the night. I kept having these terrifying dreams where my brother was telling me to make peace with myself and his life. It was so vivid and sad, I woke up heartbroken and crying. I went out into the living room for a while, and Fuckbuddy came out from the bedroom all concerned, and he made me hot chocolate and we listened to Mazzy Star together. He didn't want me to listen to sad music when I was so sad, but I insisted. It was the best 4 am experience I've had in quite a while. I was also oddly touched that he didn't get annoyed with me for waking him up. Ben would have screamed at me for me to get back into bed.

I woke up around 9 am and he was making breakfast-- eggs Benedict, rye toast. He's the total gourmand and he bakes his own bread and makes his own yogurt and stuff(made me think he was gay at first), but everything was so delicious and he didn't even get grossed out while I was hurling massive proportions of food into my mouth.

Then he asked me what I was going to do today, and I said "looking for apartments." He offered to help, and help he did: his friend actually has an empty room right across from campus! For $500 a month, that's a steal. Then he was like, "Ok, let's get your stuff moved!" So cool that he took care of everything.

And again, my psychotic tendency to question people's motives is coming afloat. Why is he being so nice to me? The sex was good, but it wasn't that good. I don't know. Maybe he's desperate and he wants me to be his girlfriend. He disgusts me slightly. I have a weird aversion to people being nice to me.

My new apt isn't that bad... just really spartan. This was my third move of the year, and we're only two months into 2008. I really don't want to move anymore. It's gotten so bad that I threw away so much of my crap, I barely have anything to my name. But people will usually call me when they want to give away their clothes or books, so I'll have more stuff soon.

There's a weird guy on Darwin Dating that says he knows me and he wants to see me "again." I don't recognize his picture and he creeps me out totally, because he knows I'm a grad student at Harvard and everything. How does he know? Anyway, I tried to cancel my profile on that thing, but for some reason, it's not letting me and it's still showing up(much like OKcupid). This may be a sign for me to hang up my internet dating hat for good.

I'm so tired, but I don't want to sleep, because I don't want to dream about my brother again. Great. Even being dead, he has to find some way to make me miserable and uncomfortable. Or maybe I'm doing this to myself. That would be not at all surprising.

I'm so shameless

2008-02-08T18:21:00.000-05:00

Friday night. I have three dates scheduled back to back to back... I've triple-booked! This is excess, even for me.

First dude, I'm meeting at a bar for drinks. Met him on Facebook. If he turns out to be *really* hot, I might ditch the rest of the guys. But probably not, since pictures are always better than the real deal.

Second dude, I'm meeting at a restaurant one block away from the bar. We met on the T. He looks like David Duchovny.

Third dude-- well, he's my fuckbuddy. I'm texting him after I'm done w/the 2nd one, and we'll probably have some casual sex. It's been a little while since I've seen him. He's the attentive, grateful type, so I'm sure I'll have fun tonight with at least one guy.

Ok, I have to get ready. My marathon of men starts in less than 40 minutes.

Update

2008-02-07T15:00:00.000-05:00

If you want to know why I haven't updated in a while(sorry, Dan!), it's because I've been spending time here: http://www.darwindating.com. Read the list of requirements, it's pretty funny. Everything on there I agree with, especially the no redheads rule(red-haired people freak me out and are v. scary to me).

It took me less than a day to get accepted(without posting any links, ha!) but I was much disappointed that there are still, in fact, some unattractive people on the site. The whole concept is hilarious in itself, because if you are as hot as you say, why should you have to resort to internet dating? Hey, exhibit A: me. I have to resort to it because I'm psycho and I've already exhausted the local supply of decent men in the greater Boston area. Plus I have social anxiety problems. This is why it is theoretically possible for hot people to need the internet to date.

Here's the email they sent me:

Dear C,

WOW, you're hot! Congratulations on being selected by the oh-so-hot members of Darwin Dating as someone they want to mate with! You are now a fully fledged member of Darwin Dating. :)

Lots of people who have applied for membership have been rejected, so you're definitely in the hottest proportion of the human race.

The next step is to complete your profile online and upload it for other members to view. Once you have done this any member will be able to initiate contact with you and you will be able to contact any other member for free!

As a member you now have a much bigger say in who else will be accepted as members to the site! Once you have logged in you can browse and rate the latest group of applicants.

We've only recently launched the site, so there aren't a huge number of people to search through yet. However traffic is increasing and while we still receive many ugly applicants, hot people are signing up all the time.

Please forward details of the site to your hot friends and hopefully we'll be able to build a nice repository of hot people for you to contact!

Yours in attractive people,

The Darwin Dating team

Yeah, I've had five dates in the past week, and I'm getting messages all the time. It's not that much fun anymore, considering I've seen all the "hot" guys in Boston and really, they're not much to write home about. I'm over it now. What would really be rad is if someone started something like this for smart people only, like make them take an online IQ test before they were allowed to join. But I bet most of the people would be ugly.

I'm also on Beautifulpeople.net, and pickings for Boston dudes are also scant there. That's the problem with exclusivity-- it's lonely. I joined when it first launched and now it's kind of dead.

On a somewhat related note, I've also taken up a sick hobby... in taking nude pictures of myself and posting them on various R and R boards across CL of random cities. I get such a little kick out of getting emails from strangers telling me how much they want to fuck me. Again, this has taken up quite a bit of my time, aside from teaching a freshman seminar this semester... yes, I'm back to being full-time!

Oh, and Ben and I? We're through, obviously. I don't really want to write about it now, except that I returned the damn ring and I hope he catches herpes in Palo Alto.

My internet access is spotty, as I am still mooching off of various ex-boyfriends and friends and sleeping on their couches. I can't seem to find a decent apt. I'm still working out every day and I'm eating one square meal per two days. It's a way of life.

I'll write more later. Right now, I'm late for a dept meeting...

Deja vu

2008-01-29T00:03:00.000-05:00

Back in Boston, trying to pick up the pieces that used to pass for my life. I've missed 2 weeks of classes and have no idea if you can or if you are even allowed to un-do the beginnings of a sabbatical. I will have one hell of a time trying to explain what the fuck I was doing to my adviser.

What the fuck WAS I doing?

My Stanford psychiatrist was a complete hack. He told me I had three DSM disorders, and recommended that I seek "in-patient therapy", as in, he wanted me to check in to an asylum! That sparked something innately fearful inside me, and I believed I was two steps away from being locked up in a bare white room with my hands tied behind my back. I was too close to it. Thank god I didn't get around to telling him how many times I wanted to kill myself and how I fantasize about dying every day. I was losing all semblance of control and I felt my life spiraling into something irrevocable. I had to get away.

That's neither here or there, though. My collection of illnesses-- academic psychiatrists have been pinning labels on me for years. The fact is, no matter what the fuck is wrong with me, I am able to lead a fairly normal life(from outside looking in), even though my inner thoughts torment me on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. I'm not homeless and I'm in fucking grad school! I'm like the Sylvia Plath of crazies, only I'm not married to a guy who will punch me in my mouth.

I have no idea what is wrong with me. All I know is that I subsist on 3 hours of sleep per night, I exercise 2 hours a day, and my thoughts race like crazy, from euphoria to suicide. That sounds like BPD, no? But then I have days like today when all I want to do is burn down entire buildings with myself in it. Yet I somehow managed to talk to my dept head and I even trekked to the Registrar to un-do the mess I have made. How do I function like this? How do I live like this?

Ben raised hell, of course, because he didn't want me to leave. But fuck him! I don't care about him. He should know that by now.

It's a good thing I never got acclimated to West Coast time. I got off my flight and ran 10 miles, and walked to the Registrar in flip-flops. My toes were numb but I didn't give a shit, because all I wanted to do was make sure I could still be classified as full-time this term. I left all my shit at Mark's apt, and he's graciously letting me crash on his couch until I can find the next sucker from which to mooch.

I'm still not even tired. Anger and disappointment in where you are at life will keep you up.

My sense of time is now, not-now. Not-now is looking darker and becomes increasingly out of my reach. Now is excruciating, every second ticking slower and faster inside my head. I'm all wound up.

$23,000

2008-01-22T22:42:00.000-05:00

Here's what I'm worth to Ben: $23,000.

I had so much fun today going to Tiffany and getting my ass kissed by all the snooty salespeople. They wanted to "teach" me about the clarity, the color, and "what makes a Lucida ring so special." I drank champagne as they asked me questions about Ben, and they showed me earrings, other necklaces, and I even got to try on a bracelet that was loaned to Nicole Kidman recently! The day in itself was worth $23,000. Is this what kept women go through every day, until they hit 35 and get all wrinkly and gross? It's addicting, this feeling of being admired and envied.

I could definitely see myself becoming a trophy wife. It's fun.

OK, gotta go. Ben's taking me out for sushi and we'll probably have some thank-you sex afterwards. I think this ring calls for that 3some he's been talking about forever.

2008-01-22T11:18:00.000-05:00

I really cherish these morning hours that I have to myself, when Ben is at his office and I am alone in the whole house to do whatever I want. You have no idea how draining it is to have someone in your face at all hours.

I carved the time out alone because living w/Ben, I don't get a chance to even take a shit alone, ever(yeah, he insists on using the Master bathroom even though there are three over the house). He didn't have an office until yesterday, so every.single.day. we would be together from the time we awoke to the time we'd sleep. It was kind of a nightmare.

I imagine this is what marriage is-- tolerable imprisonment. Only it's not so tolerable in my case.

I get up at 3 am to go for a run, and I come back around 4, exhausted and sweaty. I get in bed without taking a shower(partly to keep Ben off of me, partly because I'm tired) and I sleep until about 8 am, when I know he's gone. Then I have about seven hours to do whatever I want, with whomever I want.

I have an appt w/my psychiatrist on Thurs. I told Ben what he said, about me being possibly bipolar, and he was like, "Is that hereditary?" I think he was concerned I would pass it on to our unborn child, who exists in his mind(but not in mine!). It's kind of sad, the way he's going about planning our future, when I'm not even sure if I want to live w/him, let alone breed w/him!

Oh, and did I tell you about having to CONVERT? Yes, I have to become Jewish to get married in his home synagogue. It takes a long time and he told me I should get started now. I don't mind the studying, so I guess I don't mind becoming Jewish. That part doesn't bother me. But Ben? I don't know.

Part of the reason I'm so lukewarm about this is because I have to see Stephen soon. Stephen was the one love of my life, for whom I essentially turned my life upside down. I quit my job in NY to be w/him, to go to BALTIMORE, of all places, and that didn't pan out, obviously. He tried to commit me to a hospital because I was suicidal(but I forgave him for that! Bygones!) and I was hell-bent on destroying his life for a while, but he's somehow back and I want to see if I still feel the same ardor that fucked me over so many times before. He's based in NY but he makes a lot of business trips to LA and SF, and he said he would fly out here this week to see me.

Ok, time for me to hit the gym. I can't get flabby. Also, I'm getting new glasses today.

turning point

2008-01-19T22:21:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm probably about 20 yrs too late, but the unthinkable happened-- I got myself a shrink. A real good one. He's one of the heads of psychiatry at Stfd, and I really like him. He doesn't dispense bumper-sticker advice but gives it to me straight, which is exactly what I need right now. I need someone to be blunt and somber with me.

He thinks I may be bipolar or manic, but the diagnosis is still pending. I'll have to take some more tests next week.

He said something to me that was practically earth-shattering:

"You realize that the way you're conducting your life is completely at odds with how others conduct their lives? You're deliberately hurting yourself so you can feel relatively better when someone else rescues you. But this the high feels so high because the low is so low."

me: "Why are my lows so low, then?"

him: "Ask yourself. You're the one who's doing the sinking."

The highs are high because the lows are low. How true.

Then I asked him if he was going to make me go home and do something stupid, like list 10 things I like about myself.

"Who do I look like, Dr Phil? The last thing I'll do is waste your time. Your case is much more serious."

I laughed and I respected him after he said that. I think this might be a turning point for me.

Also, I have a huge crush on him. And as you know, that is my euphemism for "I want to fuck his brains out."

Finally

2008-01-18T13:36:00.001-05:00

Well, he did it. Ben proposed last night. The ring is Tiffany Lucida, though I have no idea what the cut or clarity is(because I didn't ask, for fear of appearing greedy, ha!). I have to go take it to the jeweler to 1)make sure it's real 2)to have it appraised in case I have to sell it.

The proposal wasn't esp romantic or creative-- it was just straightforward, matter-of-fact. "Do you want to marry me?" I didn't technically say yes, I said nothing, and just took the ring out of the box and put it on my finger myself. It fit.

I felt obligated to do something special to commemorate the occasion, so I gave him some anal sex. It seemed to work.

What's hilarious is that I had a dream last night that I was stuck in jail, waiting for someone to bail me out. How apropos is that? My sense of humor doesn't fail me, even in my dreams!

I don't know that much about jewelry, mostly because no one's ever really given me any before. But this ring feels heavy and real, so I'm guessing it's worth at least $1000. Maybe more if it is really from Tiffany, which I'm assuming it is.

I told my parents about it, and they were overjoyed. My mom said, "So when is he flying us out to San Francisco to meet him?" Ha! First of all, if Ben ever caught one glimpse of my mother, he would rip the ring right off my finger and run for the hills. She has not aged well, and visual proof of that will absoultely repulse/repel him. I will not let him see her until the wedding. And who knows when that will be?

They shouldn't get too excited, though. Ben's family have an extensive prenup, and he said it's "around 30 or so pages" worth of documents I have to sign. I have to hire a lawyer so I can make sure I'm not being ripped off(although it's not my money, so technically, it's more like me ripping him off). Mark is a political attorney, but I guess he could refer me to someone. Anyway, I'm getting it throughly examined before I sign my name to anything.

I'm engaged! Someone wants me! This should boost my mood for the rest of the week, at least.

Dead end

2008-01-15T22:17:00.000-05:00

I wish Ben would have some degree of consistency. I hate that when we get along, we are almost the same person. But when we fight, I want to die. He makes me feel like a scumbag loser who can't do anything right, as if I will never find anyone else better or even remotely on his level. Which is laughable, because since we broke up and got back together, I have been w/ 7 men(+ 2 women), and he has been with... uh, Edwina. I won.

I try to talk to him honestly about my feelings about this relationship, but somewhere along the line, it becomes a matter of one-upping him, of who can tolerate this insanity for the longest time and come out unscathed. I have this stupidly competitive streak and it manifests itself in the strangest places. Or am I just using that as an excuse? Doesn't matter, because this relationship w/Ben is toxic.

I'm getting older. I want to get married before I turn 30. That's less than two years from now. Why am I wasting my time w/Ben, someone I know I don't want to be the father of my kids. It's one thing to fuck up my life but I refuse to fuck up my offspring's. This vicious cycle of misery ends w/me. I will not propagate it onto future generations.

This is crass, but one of the main reasons I find myself going back to him is because of his money. Ben comes from an uber-rich family, on a level with private planes, a half dozen vacation homes, and maids and security detail. He doesn't lead a glamorous life because he considers himself an intelectual, but he has incredible access to so many resources and a lot of connected people. I hate myself for being drawn to him for materialistic reasons.

I could probably get him to marry me. We'd stay miserable for a few years, and I'd come out with a handsome alimony settlement, maybe. Well, probably not, because he would probably make me sign a prenup, but those things are written to be overturned, haha. But seriously, I could probably marry him and stay on this happy/suicidal cycle for a few years, and end up better than I started.

Because let's face it; I'm not going to make shit as a professor. Maybe I could if my degree was in the sciences, but liberal arts professors are barely making enough to get by, clothe and feed themselves. And I want more than that. I want to live comfortably, w.o. worrying about returning a $500 dress after I wear it w/the tags still attached. I want to look good, live well, and lead an enviable life. In the end, my parents were right: I am wasting my time getting this stupid PhD, even if it is at Hvd.

So what can I do, that will enable me to support myself liberally, to be respected, to be admired, to be happy? Too old/short to be a model. Can't sing, so rock star is out of the question. Can't draw, so artist is out. I should have gone into finance, because hedge funds--that's where it's at. But I'm too inexperienced and business/accounting/finance shit bores me. So my next option is finding someone who's in hedge funds, someone who wants an overeducated trophy wife.

God, this is depressing. I have no idea where my life is heading. I feel like I have no options, and I keep thinking about suicide again. I promised myself I wouldn't after my brother died, but I can't help it. I think I just want to die.

2008-01-14T23:58:00.001-05:00

No idea why it keeps saying "Accounting" for my industry in my profile. I don't do accounting, unless I'm accounting Calories or fuckbuddies. Actually, more former than latter.

OMFG, I saw the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life at the gym today. Physical perfection exists. I'm going again exactly one week from now at the exact same time. Maybe I'll gather enough balls to talk to him this time(I can be stupidly shy around men that have no discernible physical flaws).

West coast update

2008-01-14T23:20:00.000-05:00

Quick update although all of our stuff is still in boxes and we are eating from used paper plates(ran out this morning as we ate leftover pizza).

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, fucking LOOOOOOVE CA! I can't believe it didn't occur to me to come live here sooner. Weather? Love it. Beautiful(ok, well, more attractive than Boston, at least)people? Love it. Food? Love it. I have been eating In N Out burgers for the past two days and I'm still not sick of it! And I used exclamation marks, so you know I mean it.

The thing w/Ben, on the other hand, may fall apart soon. Every time I forget why we broke up(he's an incorrigible asshole, and when he gets cranky, he is a mean and bossy asshole, incorrigibly), he reminds me. He didn't want me to get a job here because he doesn't want me to "go out all the time." As in, he doesn't want me to meet new people! Uh, controlling much? And I still can't get used to the time change, so I end up wanting to go for a run at 2 am, and he literally screams at me: "GET BACK IN BED!" We are subletting from a Stanfd professor and it comes furnished, but the bed is inexplicably uncomfortable and I can't seem to stay asleep.

So I've decided I'm going to find my own place here. Thanks to Ben, I am in CA, otherwise I would have never left Boston... but I cannot stand living w/him. Last night, we were hate-fucking and he took it too far. He started getting v. personal, calling me "trash" and all sorts of things that are completely off-limits, even during the midst of hate-sex. Call me a bitch, a whore, whatever, but don't get fucking personal! I made him get off me and I went out for a run at 3 am, even though Ben freaked out and said it wasn't safe for me to go out alone. Well, if I got kidnapped and away from him for a while, that would actually be an improvement.

Ben and I just aren't compatible. Why? Because we have too much pride(his may actually exceed mine) and are stubborn as hell. He is constantly on my case, and when we're not fighting or screaming or fucking, there's only complete boredom enveloping us. As in, we can't just shut up and do couple-y things, as disgusting as they are. It's like, we both hate each other so much that we can't stand it, but we don't want anyone else to have us either. I can't explain why I just don't fucking end it once and for all w/him. I keep thinking maybe something will change. What a laughable delusion I had going there.

But the hate-fucking is pretty hot. I realized that's what makes our sex life so good. I've never hated someone more while they mounted me. It's sick, the way I let someone I detest fuck and use me, but there goes my low self-esteem again, working its magic!

I'm glad I'm here, though. I may never go back to Boston.

Where are you going, and where have you been?

2008-01-11T10:56:00.000-05:00

Oh, GOD. Ben* is sucking me in w/the curse of the lazy bastard once again. I did not get up this morning in time to exercise, and we had breakfast at... McDonald's, of all places(the breakfast burrito thing was not bad! the coffee was pretty solid, also). I am slowly but surely on my way to become a fat-ass slob. Why is it that when I become happy and somewhat stable, I am ok with being gross?

We had the best sex we've ever had last night. He always manages to surprise me in some new way, even though we've probably fucked like 2000 times already. He also brought up the idea of a 3some, and I am not opposed to it. OMG, this must be love.

Oh, we're picking up a puppy from a breeder we found on the internet when we get to Palo Alto. She weighs 2.12 lbs and is a Yorkie. Can't believe we're really doing this-- the dog, the move, the domesticating. I have officially become boring... unless I find some way to screw it up!

*Yes, the pejorative "loser ex" label has to be retired for now, for my own pride's sake

Finally

2008-01-10T21:27:00.000-05:00

OK, it's official. I'm moving to Palo Alto. We leave in 2 days.

This is either the dumbest or smartest move I'll ever make. Also, I tried delaying my departure for another week since Winner Ex will be in town soon, and I want to see him so badly. But it would be even more fun to make him fly 2000 miles to see me! So it might all work out in the end.

Need to pack! I'm also breaking my verbal lease and screwing my housemates over by leaving so suddenly, but that's what they get for not making me sign a contract. You know that saying about trusting people? For chumps only. Trust no one!

And I have a feeling loser ex is planning to propose soon. How do I know this? I was just at his apt earlier and I checked the browser history, and what should come up but sites for wedding rings-- Tiffany, Cartier, and a site called "Design your own Wedding Ring"? I don't think dudes browse wedding rings for fun. It's hilarious that he thinks I'd ever marry him, but I might have to hear his proposal just for the hell of it. I might say yes if the ring is fabulous, just so I can wear it before I leave him for someone better, of course.

I'll have to make sure I don't get pregnant. The last thing I need is to have something of his growing in my uterus.

Oh, BARF

2008-01-10T18:31:00.000-05:00

Couples' blogs make me vom. Unless it's rated XXX, in the manner of techer's tits and biker's balls. Same thing w/ couples' email accounts: eww, ewww, ewwww.

Also, I should not know your nicknames for each other(unless they are dirty). Actually, Elizabeth's ex-bf from college was known amongst our group as "Sir Limp-a-lot." I laughed like hell when someone tagged his photos as such on a mutual friend's Fbook.

I'm getting ready for a dinner date w/loser ex, and I'm thinking of what a great life I have. In a position to choose from three men. At the best academic institution in the world. 98 lbs. Good friends who are clever and good-looking. How'd I get here? I'm afraid it'll be taken from me at any moment. I'll just try to enjoy my night and try not to look like such a smug asshole all the time(just on the inside). I'm almost afraid to say this, but I think I am close to the state of happiness.

Two out of rotation

2008-01-08T21:39:00.001-05:00

Trainer boy is working at Equinox now. I really didn't want him to work there, because the women are v attractive(considering it's Boston) and superficial, so I know he'll get hit on a lot. The attire there is practically a bikini top and spandex Daisy Dukes, complete w/camel toe(gross, I know, but men like trainer-boy find this appealing). We're cooling down anyway, so I guess it doesn't really matter. He's been more busy and doesn't call me 2X a day like he used to. That's fine. I've become indifferent.

I had lunch w/Elizabeth(iced tea for me, chicken salad for her) today and she said she was "disappointed" that things didn't work out betw Jack and I. That's news to me! That we didn't "work out," that is. I saw him 2wks ago and I thought everything was fine betw us. Of course, I haven't returned his calls or emails, but I was planning to get around to it, eventually. I guess we're over by default. I could probably get him back again w/one txt msg, but I'm not feeling up to it. He's not the complete pussy that I thought he was. Huh!

The thing w/dating multiple men is that it eats up too much time. I don't have enough time to bludgeon my body into perfect form, do my work, AND manage to keep something going w/4 different dudes. It's not that much fun after the 1st week, and it just becomes hectic going forward. The first week is all ego, all the time(Wow! I'm hot enough to date 4 guys and I'm not even fucking any of them!) but once that's over, it's practically a full time job. Sometimes I'd tell the same joke to the same dude, and I'd only get a quizzical look in return, as in, "Geez, you're dumb. All those drugs and alcohol must have shot your memory." Uh. Haha.

Lately, I've been contemplating getting back together w/loser ex(I will have to come up w/a new name if we do become a couple again). I could use the break away from Hvd, and I'd love to live in Palo Alto for a semester... And I could do worse than gain some stability in my life, right? I've always wanted to live in the West for a while, and if I go to CA w/loser ex, I won't have to worry about housing and the incidentals. I'm sure there will be a price to be paid somewhere, somehow... but the idea of living in CA, away from Boston, is so appealing to me right now.

Of course, I'd have to find something to do for a semester. I already talked to the Kaplan people, and I can transfer to a branch in Palo Alto. That will bring in some money, at least. I could write more, and finally get a manuscript together. That will probably not bring in any money, but at least I'll have finally done what I've wanted to do since I was 19.

And maybe I could get another dog! I had a dog once, but I had to give him away when I moved. Please don't vom, but loser ex said he would be open to the idea of raising a dog together if we both moved to Palo Alto. He said: "It'll be good practice, for when we have kids." Yeah, right. I do not trust loser ex's sperm to give me non-mutant babies. My ovaries would hate me forever and then some, if I ever propagated his genes. It grosses me out sometimes when he makes presumptuous statements like that.

I ran 9 miles today, and I nearly had a heart attack when I was getting off the treadmill. I sort of fainted(ok, I did) and a bunch of people rushed to my aid, and I woke up a minute later, all sweaty and embarrassed. I couldn't tell anyone that I'm starving myself and am possessed by the exercising demon because I'm getting ready to seduce someone, so I just said I was dehydrated and people seemed to accept that. Someone bought me a smoothie and I took a sip for the audience, and threw away the rest when the crowd dissipated(do you KNOW what all those refined carbs will do to my waistline? Only assholes drink smoothies after they work out).

I WILL pound out 10 miles tomorrow, though. I'll have to do it when there aren't a lot of people around at the gym, in case I pass out again. Stupid people who are concerned about others! They annoy me.

Running free, since I don't have to watch myself anymore

2008-01-07T23:43:00.000-05:00

Haha, I just replied to 2 W4W ads on Casual Encounters(CL). God, I'm kinda gross, aren't I? But dykey bars are v. scary to me, and most of the lesbians who go there are the masculine women who look like men(which also scares me).

So now I'm faced with a problem of how to meet beautiful, nonpsycho women(this is the perennial question pondered by pasty, mediocre hetero boys all over). So... how? The ones I've met so far have happened organically, when I wasn't actively looking. Now that I'm actively looking, of course it eludes me.

I could call Jen over. Nah, no amt of ass is worth that agony.

Lately, my sex drive has soared like crazy. I just can't get enough. And it's not nice, cuddly sex I crave, either. I want wild, carnal, dirty, nasty sex. I have two more years before I turn 30 and I want to use that up sexing, goddamnit! My sexual appetite has been absolutely insatiable. And I know I'm a hardbody, and I'm certainly not a buttaface. I want to be used.

Tired. Going to bed now.

Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck. Fuck.

2008-01-07T21:38:00.000-05:00

OMFG. How could I have been so stupid? I cannot believe I turned down that residence in the colony. Everyone in my dept has been telling me how incredible it would look on my CV even after I graduate. One guy was like, "You must have something amazing lined up to turn that down."

Well, I don't.

The reason I turned it down was because they wanted me. That quote by Groucho Marx rings so true, about not wanting to be a member of any club that will accept me. My ego just took over(or was it my poor self-esteem? They go hand in hand) and I declined immediately. Not particularly graciously, I might add. (I screwed and fucked myself over on that one.) What the hell was I thinking? I have no idea.

Of course, I called them today and told them my "circumstances" have changed, but they already gave the spot to another writer. !!!! FUCK!!! I'm so pissed off at myself.

It's not enough to have a doctorate anymore. To get on the faculty tenure track, you have to have a seriously padded CV. I do not want to end up teaching at a JC somewhere in the middle of Mississippi, but that is where I might end up. Worst nightmare. Then I'll just be another schmuck with a liberal arts doctorate bound for obscurity. Oh God.

Crap. I have to stop dicking around with boys so much and concentrate more on school. Mediocrity will be my punishment if I don't stop.

Winner ex

2008-01-07T14:55:00.000-05:00

From my inbox:

'Hiya. So I'm going to be in town next week for business. Would you make Boston a little less torturous by having lunch with me? Or are you still anorexing these days?'

This is from an ex that still turns me into mush(read: lovesick puppy). Executive at a Fortune 500 Comp. Hvd/Sloan grad. Wears a pompadour and pulls it off well. Winner ex has been driving me crazy since 2001 (This is not the 3some dude.)

I wrote back:
'Silly you. Anorexing is so 2002. Of course I'm eating. Whether I'd do it w/you is another question, though. How is your wife? Heard you sired a kid.'

Reply:
'We're separated. No comments, please. Haven't spawned yet, thank God. Can't wait to see you though!'

Me:
'Can't say I'm surprised. You do have Alimony Pony written all over your forehead. Tsk. I'll let you know abt lnch next wk.'

Of course I'm going to see him. I'm going to run 10 miles a day and eat nothing until D-Day, duh!

(Note: He was not married when we were together, in case you were wondering.)

And yes, it does make it look like I don't care when I use abbreviations. It's laboriously casual.

Update:
My last reply to winner ex, re. his wife- "Abt time for a trade-in, anyhow. Make sure you wrap it before you tap it though-- the last thing you need is the annoyance of child support!"

Obviously I do not believe in reciprocity

2008-01-07T08:29:00.000-05:00

Accomplished all items on list yest. except for the last one because I changed my mind about having sex with loser ex. He was telling me that he won a fellowship at a university in Palo Alto(guess which one, Madeline) and that he was wondering how I felt about it.

"Uh, good on you, I guess."

"Are you ok with me moving across the country?"

"Why wouldn't I be? The girls in LA are completely out of your league, so I don't have to worry about you meeting someone new anyway."

He got mad and called me a bitch. Well, yeah? So? Then he said he wouldn't accept it if I didn't want him to.

"Go on. Take it. Go." I gave him some bullshit talk about being happy for him(of course I'm not; I'm secretly stewing that loser ex may improve his lot and his future w/o me).

Then he said I looked "torchin' "(he makes up his own slang) and tried to kiss me.

I let him. He gave me head.

Then I got tired and told him to leave.

"What about me? Give me a blowjob."

"What? No. I'm tired and I just brushed my teeth."

"Come on! I gave you one."

"So? Just because you... washed my windows does not mean I have to wash yours. Now leave, I have to get up early tomorrow morning."

He left and I think he's mad at me. Loser.

I'm outta here

2008-01-05T22:58:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I CANNOT wait to go back to Boston tomorrow! Nothing like staying at a shithole city for a few days to make you appreciate the benefits of living in Cambridge. The only bad thing about Camb is when the dirty townies hit on you(ewwww). Good Will Hunting would never happen IRL, mostly because the townies are derided and roundly ridiculed by the students. Ironic that Matt Damon was playing a townie when he dropped out of Hvd. Even the male students are snobby before horny.

My parents dragged me to the worst offending chain restaurant ever(gag)--Chili's. Everything was beige and fried, and I absolutely refuse to eat beige and fried food. I had a limp lettuce salad with some sad, wrinkly tomatoes tossed in, and I swear, sitting in that restaurant, with both of my parents stuffing their faces with junk food-- was one of the most pathetic sights ever. Of course, they washed it all down with Diet Coke, so they felt justified in ordering three desserts between the two of them. It was pure, undiluted gluttony assisted by stupidity and ignorance. HOW am I related to these cretins?

I do judge people based on their diets. Then I judge their wardrobe, personal grooming habits, taste in books/film, and basic overall presentation. Harshly. Then I go home and do the same shit to myself, so it comes full circle, I guess. And usually, my peers and acquaintances are well-educated, well-groomed, well-traveled, well-read individuals. I'm pretty genial around my friends. But in a place like Tampa, I feel disgusted always by the low level of accomplishment and general loserdom in which these people wallow. Eating like crap, living like crap-- I cannot comprehend how these people live like this. It's times like these when I have to acknowledge that certain people's lives are inherently more valuable than others, especially in an egalitarian society like America(where everyone has access to opportunities).

I sound hostile and elitist... but you probably knew not to read this for political correctness, anyway. (If you didn't, now you know.)

I should go to bed. I'm sleeping on a CraftMatic(one of those old-people beds that folds up) and I was thinking how useful this bed could be during involved sexual positions. Someone at the marketing dept should remarket this bed to the young and hip, with a sexy advert. Definitely has potential. It's being wasted here, though, because according to my mother, my parents have not had sexual relations in over 20 years. God, how I wish I was not privy to that kind of information.

I will do the following, in order, when I arrive at Boston tomorrow am:
1. Hit the gym, session w/trainer boy(6 mile run + free weights and lunges/squats)
2. get a haircut
3. go grocery shopping(coffee, water, lemons, yogurt, eggs)
4. have sex
5. eat dinner w/loser ex(steak for him, iced tea for me)
6. have sex(this is not redundant)

Cliche

2008-01-05T13:57:00.000-05:00

With nothing to do but e-stalk cute guys, have just found my crush's profile on an online dating site called "plentyoffish.com" and it's entirely off-putting. He lists "lying lazily in each other's arms" as a favorite activity to do on a Sunday. Good going on the alliteration, bro, but jesus, spare me the cheese! He wants someone with a "crazy sense of humor" and a "partner in crime in which to explore." Ugh, how provincial. Now I'm glad nothing happened between us, as unlikely as it were. I remember losing sleep over him, I remember running after him, and now, I find out he is nothing but a giant cliche.

Tampa is a fascinating study in sociology. Discovered this morning a coffee shop that was also a tanning salon-- that's ergonomics(and just a little gross). My parents were getting on my nerves so I bought them two tickets to a "cruise" around the Bay to keep them occupied and out of my face for an entire day. It cost me $220 and I would have gladly paid triple that amount.

Saw "Waitress" last night and liked it, very charming movie. Got hit on at Blockbuster by two men older than my father. One of them told me I had nice eyes, and I said(just to fuck with them a little): "What about my tits?" They were both taken aback and started stammering and one of them, quite dignified, said I had a "very attractive figure." It would have been hilarious to hear these old losers spewing some filthy stuff about how much they wanted to ravage me, but I guess my boldness put them in their place.

OMG, I need to get out of here before I catch some arthritic strain of STD. Boredom is danger.

Forget the bikini

2008-01-03T22:03:00.000-05:00

I guess Tampa is tropical compared to Boston, but it's still freakin' cold. Saw a guy wearing earmuffs as he was hailing a cab outside of the airport.

I can't believe my parents moved to this shithole of a city. The place they were in before(TN) is not much better than here. Why would you go through all the hassle of moving, just to move from one shithole to another? Doesn't make sense to me at all. They are practically destitute but are "retired"(read: too lazy to get real jobs) so they tell me daily to hook a rich man so I can pull a big ol' Anna Nicole. I'm their meal ticket, basically.

They're always complaining about how broke they are, but they spend their money on the stupidest shit, shit they don't even need. For instance, my father, who parks his ass on the LazyBoy all day watching TV, bought himself a $300 SMOKING ROBE, in the manner of Hugh Hefner. !!! That is both gross and wasteful. "I didn't get anything good for Xmas so I had to buy something for myself," is his excuse. Such moronic behavior is typical, coming from them. My mother spent $3000 getting.... liposculpting in December. That's liposculpting, not lipoSUCTION. As in, she spent her money getting massaged and being injected with "fat-burning vitamins." If she was morbidly obese, I would be more sympathetic, but she is just flabby enough to be unattractive but not so much that her health or mobility is in any way compromised. She could have just stopped eating junk food and gotten off her ass to exercise. Or I could have wired her jaw shut(for free!!) and that would have eventually achieved the same effect. But still she talks about how she wants to go in for another "treatment."

Do you see why I have poor self-esteem? It's because I hate my parents, the very genetic components of myself. How could anything decent and noble sprout from these two losers' loins? It's self-hatred by syllogism.

I'm just here for another day but even a minute spent in their presence is excruciating. And Tampa sucks so hard, I wonder why they didn't just name it Tampax. I thought TN was redneck central, but Tampa is even worse-- these rednecks are affected rednecks, rednecks who do shit like wear Juicy tracksuits(uh... they're about 3 years behind on the trend).

Thank God I have my phone and computer w/me. Would die, die, die w/o anything to do here.

The Coward's Litmus Test to Determine whether, in fact, you are dating

2008-01-03T14:25:00.000-05:00

Put the moves on him when you're "drunk" and feign clarity or embarrassment the day after, depending on his reaction. Works best if you have an actual history of humping strange boys when you're about 2 bottles of wine in. This is how my last not-sure-if-he's-my-boyfriend transitioned into yes-he-is-boyfriend.

Turned down the residence in colony today. Guess I don't hate it here that much after all.

Leaving for Tampa in a few hours. Hope I don't come back smelling like the olds(i.e. Ben Gay, vitamins, urine).

No use to me if you're sick

2008-01-03T00:29:00.000-05:00

What IS it about Colgate that breeds such douchery? If anyone has any idea, please let me know.

Kicked trainer-boy out of my apt 20 minutes after he came over. He brought over KFC for dinner, which is neither tasty nor sexy. Who the hell brings over a bucket of chicken to a girl's place? Doesn't really matter because I'm anorexing right now and wouldn't have eaten it anyway, but what if I wanted to eat? Loser.

He tried to talk to me while I was trying to watch GG, which annoyed me. During one of the commercial breaks, he mentioned that he was going to Syracuse this weekend, and did I want to come? OK, who the hell goes to Syracuse, of all places, to hang out? That place is so industrial and unless you're into strip malls, factories, and drunken townies, it sucks.

Well, it turns out he is going back to "visit" his alma mater... Colgate. Yuck. I didn't even know he had even gone to college. I kind of got off on the mistaken fact that I was dating a hot trainer who was probably a high school drop out(the whole upstairs, downstairs thing)! Can't tell you how much of a let down it is that he is just that stupid and he is actually college educated, albeit at Colgate.

I know I have a lot of schools on my hate list, but Colgate probably tops them all. That school is so faux-preppy and psuedo-intellectual. And how creepy is it that all the people who went there STILL hang out with only each other, even like 5 years after graduation? V. creepy.

I think he hooked me when he made these suggestive, grunting noises during our training sessions and borderline offensive/crude remarks about my body when I would lunge and squat. I would meet him always at 6am, and gym attendance was usually scant at that time. We'd flirt furiously and all the pheromones in the sweat probably didn't hurt, either. I also overheard a few women talking about how hot he was and that made me decide I wanted to date him. He also told me that he used to be an Abercrombie catalogue model(which is probably a lie) but at least he looks like one, so that makes it a forgivable lie. Believable lies are forgivable lies in my book.

He's such a whiny little bitch, though. When I canceled our first date last minute, he made a big deal about it and formally "resigned" his position as my trainer and reassigned me to someone else because he didn't want me to "feel uncomfortable." Then it took a week's worth of drinking and texting(on his part) and finally we had one dinner date with some above-the-waist action afterward. Tonight was supposed to be the below the waist part.

So anyway, he said he was getting over the flu but he still wanted to have sex with me. Yeah, right! (I'm a huge germaphobe) I told him I had my period cramps(I don't) and kicked him out, and he left with a drumstick in his hand. 10 mins later, I got a call from a friend and we went to go see I am Legend. Movie was awful, but company was not.

Friend asked me if I was blogging anymore, and I fibbed and told him no. He thinks I'm dignified and that will all go down the drain if he ever catches a glimpse of all this. I'd like to keep his misperception afloat.

Oh! Going to FL tomorrow. Can't WAIT to rock my new La Perla bikini, though no idea how since it's 40 deg. there. Unfortunately, it's not the sexy part of FL(i.e. Miami)-- I'm going to Tampa.

Diets that work

2008-01-02T16:31:00.000-05:00

The REAL Southbeach Diet: an 8ball of coke, followed by a cigarette. Repeat for a few days and guaranteed to make you lose your muffin top

The Mini-thin Hangover Diet(what I'm on now): As many mini-thins as you can take, + coffee and a lingering hangover. Sight of food will repulse you so you totes take off at least a stone

The Anorexing(my fav): All the water you can drink. Chew on your pen if you get hungry

The Substitution Diet: Substitute intercourse for food. Obvs you got to get on top. BJs should not included, because semen has abou 10 Calories per gram

The Binge-orexing: Hurl the most sugary, fatty, calorie-laden food you can find into your face(or whatever's not nailed down to your kitchen table), consequently feel guilty. Spend rest of the day anorexing.

I don't advocate bulimia because that's for messy chicks and it erodes your teeth (bulimic girls are always chubs anyway).

When will my stupid headache go away?? I keep scowling in pain and I don't want to get wrinkles. That will depreciate my future trophy-wife looks.

Oh, and got an email from one of the colony directors; a spot is mine if I want it. Since it's not so out of reach anymore, it doesn't appeal to me as much. Why didn't you play a little hard to get, colony? I would have wanted you more.

Trainer-boy is coming over to my place to watch Gossip Girl w/me. I hope he doesn't think this is code for "let's have sex and pretend to watch TV," because I do not enjoy being bothered while my GG is on. He is bringing dinner as the contents of my fridge consist of alcohol and nail polish.

Still hungover

2008-01-02T10:09:00.000-05:00

Loser Ex's bday is coming up, and I want to make sure he knows that I know, so he will feel sad when I don't get him anything. Last year, he wanted a steak and a blowjob, so I gave him chicken and cuddling instead. Have never regretted that.

Anyway, he wants to have a party at a club near Back Bay. Who the hell has birthday parties anymore? Geez, just get laid and call it a night, you asshole. It'd be different if someone were throwing it for him, but he is throwing it for himself(this is the same guy who gave himself a nickname, so.)

This club sucks. The only people who go there are cougars and camel jockeys. It wouldn't even bother me if the cougars were actually attractive, but these are old bitches who try to dress way younger than they are(Hello?? Crow-feet and miniskirts should never mix) and are totally into chasing young guys. It's like, they couldn't give that shit away when they were younger, and no one still wants it now. Go home and take care of your kids, you hags.

Doesn't matter, because I'm not going. I hope he gets drunk and breaks his coccyx like he did last year. Or cry about me leaving him(would be better).

Still feeling like shit. My right arm is v. sore for some reason. I want to have a Mini-thin and get some work done.

I need an Excel spreadsheet

2008-01-01T22:58:00.000-05:00

So I'm "seeing" a total of 4 men, currently(but sleeping with none). I like them enough to spend time doing things I'd be doing anyway(e.g. eating, running, watching movies) but I dislike them individually for different reasons. Normally I don't advocate dating so many men simultaneously, but I vacillate from celibacy to triple bookings, and that's just part of my all-or-nothing nature.

Guy#1: Met on a blind date, set up by a good friend. Spent $500 bucks on me for Xmas after we slept together on the 1st date. Got turned off at his eager/desperation, stopped returning his calls for a while, until friend practically made me see him again. Smells weird, like baby powder.

Guy#2: Met at the gym(he was my trainer). Hot as hell, but dumb as a Special Ed student. Tried not to hold his job against him, but his daily proximity to people's sweat is just unsavory. Out of the 4, I'd probably screw him first.

Guy#3: Ex I can't shake. He kinda sucks but he's rich. Cheated on him, left him, and slept with his nemesis, and he STILL wants me. Loser.

Guy#4: Friend who has confessed he wants to "take things to the next level"(his words). Uh... probably not. Sweet but prosaic. Helps me fall asleep.

And tomorrow I am getting tested for signs of God's Punishment: STDs. Not really scared, but I hope I don't get Harvard herpes(which is going around, from what I hear).

Catching the red-eye back to Boston tomorrow am. Leaving Bmore shamed and red-faced.

This is just bad manners

2008-01-01T19:42:00.000-05:00

Received the following text from an ex today:

"Would you be interested in a 3some w/my gf? She thinks you're hot and so do I."

Um..??!!!

This is offensive on so many levels.

What the hell makes him think I'd want to fuck his gf? Past behavior would indicate that I'm open to fucking the ex, but his gf? What the hell?? From what I've seen of her, she could not even remotely be construed as attractive. But let's set that aside for a minute. Who the fuck propositions their EX-GIRLFRIEND for group sex??? Especially one they haven't spoken to in over 2 years?? That is fucked up. Seriously, dementedly fucked up.

My reply:

"Eww. No. Non. Never! I think your gf is fug. Text me when you upgrade."

Gross.

Edited to say: It's been five hours and hey, no reply!

Things I hate for reasons even unbeknownst to myself

2008-01-01T17:31:00.000-05:00

Edition: can't explain it.

-Dartmouth grads(too stupid to know they're alive, in the manner of Wilson)
-Cornell grads(that school is so fucking weird; they have like 12 of them, including the School of Hotels and School of Farming)
-Brown grads(everyone hates Brown, even Lisa Simpson)
-men who look like women and women who look like men(freaks me out)
-redheads(Ewww.)
-albinos
-cats
-apish-looking people(e.g. Eli Roth)
-crooked penises
-computer programmers
-women named Cynthia

Ah shit

2008-01-01T15:18:00.000-05:00

I'm never drinking again for as long as I live. This hangover feels like a dozen men pulverizing my head with golf clubs. I brought a bunch of work with me, but I can't focus.

So this new blog. I've resisted moving to Blogger for so long, but the hecklers at Diaryland made it mandatory. There will be no mention of my academic institution here, lest it be gobbled by the bots of Google. I'm hoping I can remain anonymous and write honestly.

Okay, here's where I'll start. Last night, I hooked up with this woman-- who was maybe an 8 on a scale with a maximum of 10, and of course I had my wine goggles on. She was flirty and bought me drinks, and I didn't fully comprehend the depth of her annoyingness because the music was so loud and I was trashed. I brought her back to my friend's townhouse and we hooked up a little bit, but she was a little hygienically challenged, let's say, and I just couldn't get into it. She had nice tits, though. That much, I do remember... but still not nice enough to redeem herself. She kept pawing me while I was sleeping in the bed. She was one of those eager, grateful types(most likely a former fattie, judging from her stretch marks, bleccch). And God, how I wish I didn't remember how hairy she was, gag. I had to wake her up and kick her out of the house when I sobered up a bit, around 11 am or so. Also, I wanted her out of there before anyone woke up.

She wanted to take a shower first. I hesitated, but I relented, mostly because she needed it badly. She was in the bathroom for quite a while, and then came out, got dressed, and left without saying goodbye. I was relieved that she was gone and didn't think twice about it. At this point, everyone was sleeping still.

About two hours later, my friend Asher(who is renting the townhouse) is yelling that his watch, a Cartier limited-edition or something other, is fucking missing. Instantly I realized that the dirty bitch I hooked up with last night was the culprit, but I kept my mouth shut. Why? I can't afford to buy him a replacement and am hugely mortified thus. Thankfully, I don't think anyone remembers that I brought a girl home last night, and no one has said anything to me. I do feel horrible about hooking up with a thief, though. She wasn't even that hot. That's the part that bothers me most. That, and the fact that she robbed my friend.

Well, so far, this bisexual experiment is not panning out. First one was a bona fide psycho, and the second one is a hairy thief. It would be stupid to remain optimistic at this point.

See? I could never write about shit like this if my friends were reading this.

Oooh, my head. I need to go rest.