The Heat Is On

Okay so I know it is a been a long while, but nobody reads this crap anyway!

I am writing now because lately I have been on the hunt for my Post-Grad "happy ending" (fuck you Alexis Bledel). By this I mean I WANT A NEW FUCKING JOB! I graduated six months ago. Ive already spent five long years in college, and I should at least get rewarded by getting a new job right? No. Instead I have college loans out the butt and the same shitty waitress job. What was all of this hard work for? Just to prove I'm not as stupid as everyone else? Or perhaps to prove that I am more stupid then all the bums that didn't go to college. We are on the same level of employment...yet I wasted five years.
So in my haste, I have been applying to anything and everything. Jobs I'm not even qualified for. But I am hoping to have one of those movie star endings. You know, like a bad 80's movie with Michael J. Fox, you get the job on false pretenses but you have a quick montage and suddenly you're running the place. Too far-fetched? Oh well I'll keep the dream alive.
But on a happier note, Mr. Perfect has been dethroned and forgotten. Even though it has been months after the fact he was still calling me on a fairly regular basis (I'm sooo weak). But a couple of weeks ago he had the audacity to bring up his newly budding relationships...and after I regained my breath....I hung up on him....and hung up on our "friendship". (To all you readers out there who don't know me, or know what happened I still refuse to divulge all the details, but for the stake of this story I will say, he broke up with me and said he just didn't want to be in a relationship. Yet here we are, five months later, and he is cozying up to some white trash skank. Okay so I don't really know what shes like, but I prefer to assume.)
But anyway, the point is...it is finally over. I have finally reached my limit of self abuse. I can talk to him no longer.
And not to mention...I myself have a new budding relationship. And in light of the death of Mr. Perfect....I would like to introduce Mr. Sweetheart. Mr. Sweetheart is someone that I met at work, and I must say he lives up to his nickname quite swimmingly. He seems very enamoured with me (the jury is still out on whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. Too soon?) and it feels nice to be doted upon, but at the same time I am still quite stung after Mr.(Not)Perfect. But anyway, the only problem with Mr. Sweetheart is the way our tryst began. See...he was kind of involved with someone...for two years. I know, I know, I am a harpy woman. I just cant seem to steer clear of these involved people. But in Mr. Sweetheart's case, he know longer desired to be in this relationship, and our "thing" gave him a clear out. And within days after we slept together he dumped his significant other. Which, if one kind find anything noble in this situation, is pretty decent. Most men would have just continued on, trying to see how long he could juggle the two of us. Oh well I have a knack for fucking up other peoples relationships. It was bound to happen again I guess.
Well right now my focus is on my job status, and my heart status. I don't want to fuck things up with Mr. Sweetheart, but more importantly I don't want to fuck things up with myself. I need to figure out where this relationship is going as well as where my life is going. So in the true spirit of an 80's movie I will leave you with the theme song. "The heat is on..."

Blue Balls

So lately my life has been filled with blue balls. Yes that's right.
Me and Mr. Perfect still cant seem to stay away from each other for very long.I am trying so hard to ignore his calls and my urges to call him. It is time for me to rid myself of this problem. It is time to shed this cocoon of a relationship that will never be.
And what has brought me to this conclusion? Blue Balls. Every time me and him are together my need for him is boiling over. I'm practically humping his leg like a dog in heat. But what is he doing? Nothing. He kisses me back if I kiss him. But he doesn't look at me with that burning desire, he doesn't feel the burning need that is eating me alive. And thus, by the time I go home my balls are so blue it would put the sky to shame. I don't think he loves me anymore. I have just become a crutch to him. A crutch of normality. Someone that will always love him and dote upon him no matter what.
So in this conclusion, I have decided to really move on...for good. So how does a normal, intelligent, independent woman of the millennium get over a man? Sex. I don't care what anyone says. Though it may not be for long, sex with another man always helps a woman forget an ex. So I turned to a fella I met in college. Well actually I guess he really turned to me. We had flirted with each other for months. All innocent of course. I was with Mr. Perfect and he was single. So when Mr. Perfect and I broke up I contacted Mr. College but it turned out that he was now in a relationship. So I congratulated him and we stopped talking.
A few months later he contacted me and asked me if I wanted to hangout. Thinking that this was a clear indication that he and his girly were through, I agreed. A few days later we were having a really good time at his apartment. Then he felt the need to tell me that he was still with his girlfriend. OK, whatever, we can still be friends right? No. We totally had sex. Oops. I feel bad but not really, call me what you want but I have my own issues. I cant burden his moral issues as well. He chose to ruin his relationship, I just helped.
But anyway, so over the last couple of months we've had sex a few times. But the last time finally cut me into moral second thought. His girlfriend probably sleeps in the bed we have had nasty sex in. That's not right. I do have a little bit of goodness left in me.
So a few days ago he wrote me telling me he wanted to fuck me while he was at work. At first I was a little turned on (sorry 90% of me still bad), but then I felt guilty again. He wanted to cheat on his girlfriend so bad with me, he wanted to fuck at work. (Always the bridesmaid, never the bride). But anyway so I told him I would do it. Then I hyped him up real bad. Sending him all kinds of filthy texts. He told me to meet him at 11:45. Well that time came and went, and ladies, let me just say...he called me 5 times. 5 Fucking times. Men. I swear. When you are together they hardly call. But when you promise to fuck them in a bathroom they start blowing up your phone.
Blue Balls. I tell you what, it changes people.

Pressure-Cooked Friendship

So it's been two months now. Two months since my life changed drastically. I still think about him everyday. Sometimes the weight of it all sits on my chest. I've fallen into a painfully exact routine. Every morning I wake up at 11:30 I drink exactly 2 cups of coffee, taking exactly one hour. Then I usually sit outside and tan while reading a book. Then I shower. I wash my hair and shave every other day. After I always apply lotion and body spray.(On my days off I paint my nails and pluck my eyebrows).Then I head off to work. Work all night long. Come home around midnight, watch TV until the last episode of the Nanny then go to bed and start all over again. I spend so much time with myself its suffocating. I never thought I would get annoyed with my own company! And its not that I don't have friends. I went out dancing the other night(fun times) but for the sake of my health and my wallet I cant go out all the time. Hell one of my new favorite activities is going to the movie alone and bawling my eyes out in the back (Time Travelers Wife: serious tear jerker!)
But this is not the point of this blog. This is simply a back story to my anxiety. So me and Mr. Perfect still talk every night...well every night until recently. We are living in this disgusting illusion of friendship. And I must say...It is seriously taking its toll on my emotional health. See the problem with this rosy picture that he tries to paint is that....Im in love with him. I dont want to be friends with someone that I love. If I were ever to find out he was with someone else....oh lordy. I mean I know its bound to happen, hes not going to be alone forever. But I dont want to talk to him about it. I want to hear something like that through rumors. Not from the horse's mouth.
And to make matters worse, we went out last week. It was sooooo hard. All night I was looking at him with such love. Damn Yall he is handsome. So very handsome. Then when the night was over I kissed him. I know, I know, I'm just adding to my suffering. But I couldnt help it. Then something crazy happened! He told me he loved me. That is the first time he has said it in two long months. What does it mean?!
Well anyway back to the anxiety. So for the next few days things fell back into the pattern of "friendship". But for the past three days I have gone with no phone calls. Three long nights of wondering. Three long nights of telling myself that this is for the better.
Deep down inside I know that even though my life is lonely now soon there will be someone else. Deep down inside I know that I deserve something better. So now comes the hard part of discerning what I want, and what I need. And all the while I cant stop thinking that he hasnt called me for the last three days because he has found someone else. And that just makes me feel empty.

Optimism Comes With a Little R&R

Last night, after work, me and Megan(awesome friend extrodanare and future roomate) were sitting in my car enjoying a little smoke down. We got to talking about last summer when I spained my ankle. Its a really funny story. I had gone to a wedding with a few of my work friends and we proceeded to get ten shades of drunk. Then we went back to someones apartment and decided it would be a blast to go skinny dipping in the public apartment pool. It did prove to be pretty fun. But anyway we got caught and we all had to jump over the fence and skatter. Well I jumped over the fence and horribly sprained my ankle. I then limped back to my friends house proclaiming I had broke my foot (drunk paranoia!).It was fun times.

But anyway after me and Meg finished the joint I headed home.On my long drive home(my mom lives out in the country) I began to think. First of all I began to wonder why my life used to be so exciting and now it is so boring. In my past I have painted the town red a few(hundred)times. And now all I do is work and sit around with my mom and watch CSI. But then I began to think about something else. Everyone is going to have downtime in their life. I've had really fun and exciting times, Ive had really stressful and uncomfortable times, and now I think I am in a stage in my life were rest and relaxation are key. There arent too many times like this in life. I will start grad school soon and that will quickly end all of this downtime. So instead of whining about how crappy my life is, I need to enjoy this. No one wants anything from me, I dont have the stress of a relationship, I dont have the stress of rent, and I dont have the stress of school.

So, in honor of this revelation I've decided to do exactly that. I havent had a day off work since last Tuesday(I've been really trying to pile a savings) and I was going to go in and pick up a shift tonight as well. But fuck that. I'm going to the liquor store to grab a bottle of rum, then Im gonna roll a fatty and then I'm gonna lay outside to bake like a lamb in the oven! Things are looking up today!

Strawberry Shortcake, Three Berry Pie and Nudity

Ok, so living with my mother is not as horrible as one might imagine. But as always there are pros and cons...
Pro: I have the basement completely to myself (somehow living in the basement makes it seem kind of worse...like I'm some forty year old dude looking up kiddy porn in my moms basement...eww, I digress)
Pro: I get to save alot of money (saving money always good).
Con: no privacy (some how knowing that your mom is upstairs makes everything feel weird).
Pro: a big backyard great for tanning (a daquiri,a joint, a book, and the sun...heaven!).
Con: the constant supply of food. Now this one may seem like it should be a Pro. But trust me it isnt. When you are a poor college kid eating once a day and studying all night (though that is completely unhealthy)...your bod's pretty rockin! When you are somebody who lives with your mom...its a daily struggle of dodging three large home cooked meals. And to make matters worse, my mom loves to bake extravagant, fatty things. For example, the other day, after I had just smoked a joint, my mom comes to me with homemade strawberry shortcake....hello, delicious! Then yesterday she told me that she was going to make a three berry pie...mouthwatering. At this rate, by the time my 90 days are up nobody is going to want to have sex with me! I'm a single woman now, I gotta keep the package tight!(Not that I would ever date a man who only cared about what I looked like, its just fun to make people swoon!)

Unfortunately there is one more Con. The decision concerning my living situation was set in stone the other night. Picture this...its late at night...you are down in your mom's basement enjoying a book...then all of the sudden you are struck with an extreme dehydration, you need water stat...you travel up the stairs...its eerily quiet in the house...the horror movie music flares up in the background as you reach the top of the stairs because there, wandering around the living room is your NAKED MOTHER!!! Ladies and gentlemen, I saw my future...and it was not cool. Time to move out I'd say.

Morning Coffee Contemplation

It is rainy today...which kind of sucks because I can't smoke a cigarette while I drink this cup of coffee(I prefer all my vices at once in the morning). Today is shaping up to be a bad day already. Last night all I dreamt about was sex. It was one of those weird nights where I dreamt a million different little dreams instead of one big one. All my dreams were different scenarios, that all ended the same way! It was like reading a hundred Harlequin books. The plots were bad and my mind was skipping to the sex parts! I woke up half humping myself while the cat was looking at his empty dish and howling. Good Morning America!

I talked to Mr. Perfect on the phone last night. Yes, we talk on the phone every night. I know its not proper break-up etiquette. Every night I tell myself I'm not going to answer...I try really hard....but in the end who am I kidding? I know its not healthy to keep answering the phone but I cant help it. Am I waiting for some fairytale ending? Do I think that one night he is going to call me and say he cant live without me another minute? Or is it just a crutch of self pity. Every time he calls I cant help but to feel that pang of "woe is me". Is that what I want? More reasons to stay locked up in the house, smoking weed and being depressed. Nobody expects anything from you when your in a state of depression.

Hmm. Well more on this later. Today I have a fun filled day of rainy activities. Laundry...cleaning...cat love...then work. With a schedule like that who couldn't escape depression?

The end of the begining

Ok so I'm not 100% sure whether I am happy to be a blogger or I have hit rock bottom. On the one side I am happy to have something to do. I am happy to finally verbalize my story, even though the right people will probably never read this. But then on the other side my life is just lonely and boring and this is the only thing I have to do with my time now.
Whatever the reason for my crap being aired to the world, hopefully someone will read this and feel some what enriched in having done so.

My story starts in a sickening cliche way. With, of course, a broken heart. Men are scum...the whole nine yards. I have only ever been in two serious relationships and in both situations my love was extremely one-sided. With the first I was cheated on and emotionally beat down on the regular. That one lasted about four years. The day I broke up with him was one of those rare days when the world feels like its at your feet. I remember driving in my car in late spring. The sun was shining and the clouds were smiling like my friends. I had no trouble unpacking my things and adjusting to my new apartment. Life had unfolded into a happy road of stress-free, me-loving existence.

During this time I lived all by my lonesome in a fourth story sprawling apartment in the semi-ghetto. I was an independent happy woman who only had to worry about myself. I slept around and partied every night with my best friend. I could use men easily because I held no affection for commitment after the nightmare of a relationship I had just left.
Then started to take guitar lessons with a man I'd known my whole life. I tried to stay out of a relationship but in the end I fell absolutely in love with him. I still absolutely love him. We got engaged sometime last year before I left to go to Italy. Then things happen...and before you know it I'm coming back from a trip to New York only to empty my things out of our mutual apartment.

I spent a long few weeks slowly unpacking the bags at my mother's house. And now here I am. 23, fresh out of college, alone, and living with my mother. I think about my ex fiancee at least twice a day. Trying to forget the way his smile looks, or the way he laughs. But that is neither here nor there. It is time to move on. Time to use this experience to become a better person. To grow and learn. If this had happened a couple of years ago I would have drowned myself in the affection of men. Using them and never calling them back. But this time will be different. So I propose this.... 90 days of celibacy. No sexual contact with men in any way shape or form. I need to get over my ex and find the love for myself again. And in order to do this I need to cut the temptation out all together.

It hasn't been easy so far. I've been known to be quite the wicked woman. My ex fiancee is the only man I've every truly behaved for effortlessly. I love him. But anyway, in my wilder days I was known to break a heart, or two (or three!). I've been misbehaving alot lately and that needs to end. I stay in contact with my first ex...which we will call Asshole....and we started hanging out again after my colossal break up with Mr. Perfect. Asshole assumed that it was destiny that I returned to him alone....puke....I think that deep down inside I just needed someone to tell me that I was great. And he is certainly good for that. If I can say nothing else about him I can say that he truly worships me. All the time I wish that Mr. Perfect would feel that way, not Asshole.

But anyway, a few weeks ago I slipped up huge and had sex with Asshole. Total, total mistake. I was lonely without Mr. Perfect. So then Asshole thought we were going to get back together and I didn't know how to tell him I was kinda using him. Ok and for this next part you cant judge me...so then I kind of asked out Assholes best friend. Witchy Woman!! I don't know what got into me!!! I guess I just have no qualms about getting what I want. But Asshole found out and now I feel really guilty about it. So now its 90 days our bust! I need to stay away from men if I'm gonna have any moral fiber left.