Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Can You Be Naked When I Come To The Door?

I'm sure I could be.  But, I won't.  It's like 50 degrees and you have neighbors. This is the next guy on our trip down Coitus Lane.  We'll call him The Touched One.  He was just that.  Boy was gorgeous.  His body was on point.  His face was adorable.  He was my age.  His house was large, beautiful and quiet.  It was actually a bit too big for just one man.  And he was just a little bit crazy.  Just a touch.

He wasn't that all out crazy.  He just appeared to have grown up rich and he was a little out of touch and a little spoiled.  He talked really fast and was all over the place.  If I would have had to guess the number of prescription meds he was on, I would have guessed 3.  He had finished a bottle of wine before I got there and he was working on another while we talked.  

The talking didn't last long.  Before I knew it, I was sitting on his coffee table with my skirt around my waist and his face buried between my legs.  I hadn't been drinking, so I was able to enjoy every second.  He laid me down on the living room floor and we had sex for the first time.  The second time happened against the wall in the foyer.  We had a long run in his office.  

Then, he got hungry.  So, he decided to cook us dinner.   We made our way to the kitchen and I sat up on the counter helping him sip another glass of wine.  I didn't really want to drink, but I did want to help him slow his pace.  I held his glass more than I drank it.  It helped, a little.  Then, like he had been losing himself in his addiction all night, I lost myself in mine again.  While he cooked dinner, I got off the counter and laid on my back in front of him on the floor.  I propped my legs on the counter and he dropped his pants.  I wasn't wearing panties, and he had put a condom in his pocket before we left the office.  It was a seamless transition from him making dinner, to him making me on the kitchen floor of what I later found out was a model home his father owned.

We ate, then he led me to a bedroom.  There, he laid me down on the bed and after fucking four times around the house, we proceeded to do something that felt a lot like making love. It was slow and gentle.  There was a lot of kissing and whispering.  The same man that had just ravaged me from all angles for the past 2 hours was now gazing into my eyes and telling me how beautiful I was.  It wasn't bad, but it was a stark shift.  After we finished in the bedroom, he seemed like he wanted to pull the covers back and snuggle in together.  This wasn't going to happen.  

  • A. I wasn't about to get all snuggly with dude in this mysterious house.  There were no signs of a wife, but I wasn't going to play around.
  • B. I don't like to snuggle up to crazy.  I am not big on forming emotional bonds with the unstable. 
  • C. My friends were texting me from a birthday party at an after hours strip club.  I had places to be.
So, I had to take my leave of The Touched One.  It was a good time, but I don't think I would do it again.  Crazy is okay in small doses, but I don't need any oversized helpings of crazy.  I'll pass.  Okay, maybe just once more. But, that's it. No more than once. (And by once, I mean 6 times in one night.) 




WonderDick

Okay folks. There's a bit of me that has been dormant a little too long.  All this talk of possible relationships and goals and my future out of college have led me astray.  As spring strikes and summer nears, I can practically smell the fresh new men waiting just around the season... wait ... fresh new men and smelling sound kinda gross together.  But, you get the idea.  Spring has sprung. And so am I.

So, forget all of the romance and courting.  That's all nonsense meant for the bitter cold days of winter.  I put on a dress today.  Do you know how long it's been since my legs have been free from the oppression of pants?  Do you know how long it's been since my vagina has seen sunlight? Of course you don't.  Because I haven't been writing about sex.  Quite frankly, I have been writing about and doing everything but sex.

That's not totally true.  I have had a little bit of sex. It's no where near the volume I am used to, but it's probably normal for the average libido.  So, in honor of my dress.  In honor of spring, the next few posts will be all about sex.  It's a recap of the sex I've had, the sex I want to have and the sex I will never have again.

Let's begin, with the 21 year old.  On my trip back to Houston about 5 months back, I met a young man. Yes, young. He was actually younger than I would normally consider.  He flirted and he asked me to come out and meet him one night.  I did.  He was funny and we made out a little.  He wanted to get together and have sex.  He was pretty frank about it.  But, I was still on the fence.  I thought it would be nice.  Lewis and I had stopped sleeping together, The Beautiful One and I had long been on the outs.  I had slept with one slightly clingy guy and other than that, I didn't really have many guys on-call in Houston, anymore. We made plans to hook up.  I wasn't super into the idea.  I mean I was interested, but I wasn't interested enough to jump at the opportunity, so I was dragging my feet.  He could tell and I wasn't overly feeling it.  So, one day, after I gave him some excuse of why I couldn't come out, he sent me a text.  It was simple enough. And it did the job.  I went to meet him (at his parents' house) the next day.

I know what your wondering... What could he have sent that would cause me to drive across town and have sex with him at his parent's house the very next day?  Well, wonder no more.  It was his dick. And it wasn't just any dick. It was huge. HUGE.  Don't underestimate this.  I showed the pic to my friend and she insisted that it was fake because it was shrouded in red boxer briefs.  But, when I showed the one that followed it, bearing nothing but a hand, she started singing a different tune.  Yeah, it was real and unreal all at once.  Afterward, my friend kept texting me asking if I was going to go meet WonderDick.  I had to do it for her (and me).  Take one for the team, ya know.  I would have to pay the young man a visit.

I was there a grand total of about an hour.  And that's from the point of exiting my vehicle to the point of reentering my vehicle.  I actually hadn't even made it out of his front door before my best friend called to see how it was.  Was it good?  Did it hurt?  Was it really that big in person?  It was, indeed.  It was HUGE, indeed.  And he was pretty good in bed. I can only imagine what he'll be like when he gets to be my age.  I hope the 48 year old me runs into the 40 year old him.  That will be a pleasant surprise.  But in the long run, that day wasn't spectacular.  I drove all the way across town to get some Chick-Fil-A, topped off by empty midday sex with some guy that had the biggest dick around.  I'm sure I'll see him around town and when I do, I'll smile.  But,   I doubt I will ever pay WonderDick another visit.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Happiness

Some days, I hate what I do.  I wake up after 4 hours of sleep and I return to the thing that keeps me up at night.  With sleep in my eyes, I go back to the drawing board.  I attempt to dream up concepts and ideas that will make people question ... things.

Most mornings, I have to force myself out of bed. I bribe myself with coffee and a promise that I will return to bed at a decent hour and finally get a good night sleep. The coffee is the only part of this promise that is ever realized. If I'm not up working on a photo shoot, I'm writing for one of my two blogs, or putting together proposals for art projects. Just this week, I have embarked upon a mission to make a short film about women and their uteri.  Because I didn't have enough irons in the fire, already. 

Life is busy.  And, some days I hate what I do.  Some days it just gets to be too much.  I don't think I can take it anymore.  Then, I have days like today.  I get through a photo meeting, I get a new client, I perform a pretty damned good beginner ballet routine and I hit my bed exhausted.  These days are the ones that keep me going.  These days are the ones that make me feel whole.  

They are days when I can barely squeeze in a meal.  On these days, I am running off coffee and a sheer unadulterated love for life and for what I do. I don't have time to text or spend time with friends.  I spend days like this tucked away in a dark room or in front of a computer in the photo lab.  My mind stays occupied.  It has no time to wonder.  There's no time to worry. And, there is definitely no time to think about romances or relationships.  

These are the days I am the happiest, not because I am validated or fulfilled by a man.  These are the days I am the happiest, because they are the days I am productive. My happiness comes from a pride in what I do.  My happiness comes when I have a break through after many sleepless nights.  My happiness comes from knowing I went back to school and I am about to have be the first person in my family with a degree. The details, both small and large, create the substance in my life and that substance is what makes me happy.  The men are just auxiliary. Like the cherry on top of the sweetest hot fudge sundae ever ... or, in my case, cherries. 

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Out With The Old & Back In With ... The Old?

If you have read this blog from the beginning or spent any time around me personally, you know that I had two affairs in the past year that actually meant something to me.  I have had two bottom bitches, if you will. I am sure neither of them will appreciate my loving use of that term to describe them, but I am sure they understand that it's all in jest ... sort of.

I mean, they are the guys I would cut a dude for.  They are the ones that I talk to about stress in school and about my man issues.  They are the ones I call when a guy does something like ask me to spit in his mouth.  They are my friends.  I have guys I date and I have guys I sleep with.  But these two are my friends.  Of course, I am talking about Lewis and Marlon.

Lewis was my short romance of the summer and Marlon was my short romance of the Spring semester.  Never did I think anything was going anywhere with either of them.  I knew it was temporary and that made it easy.  We all knew the game and the rules from the beginning and this left little to no room for confusion or error.  This openness is why we were able to be friends.  It's what kept it all so clean and tidy.

Lewis and I sort of dated.  But mostly, we slept together and worked together on projects.  We motivated each other and we grew rather close.  He quickly became one of my favorite people and we soon decided we would stop sleeping together because our friendship had become too valuable.  Sex was the only thing that stood a chance of getting between us, so we cut it out.

Marlon, on the other hand... that was a different story.  Marlon and I slept together twice.  We talked a little and I fell head-over-heels for him in the most responsible way possible.  He read the blog and we talked openly about dating/sleeping with other people, without getting into detail or sharing too much.  It was all out in the open.  But, when we had sex, while we were having sex, I would have sworn I loved him.  Once he had exited my person and my town, I would return to my senses, but things were hot when they were hot.  I honestly consider Marlon a friend, but I don't really know how that happened.  I really can't tell you much about him.  I just know he makes me laugh and he's there if I need to talk.  I haven't really taken him up on that, but I know it's always an option.  The situation with Marlon is a bit different than the one with Lewis, because we never really called off the sex.  He just lives an hour and a half away and so, I didn't really feel it was necessary to declare an ending.  I thought it would just subtly and quietly declare itself.

Turns out, this isn't the case.  But, things with Marlon did calm.  I haven't seen him in months and our texts were pretty run of the mill ... Hellos and How ya doins.  Things with Lewis had been about the same.  We text the occasional "I miss you."  But, nothing much deeper than that.  The important thing is that I have never lost touch with either of them and the communication stays consistent and light. Until lately, that is ...

For some reason, these two basket cases decided to start texting me lovey, romantic shit at the same time.  Again, I call them basket cases with all the love in my heart.  But, what the hell?  Marlon is now asking if he can come visit.  We had talked about him attending my college prom (Oh yes, there will be a college prom story.)  But, I hadn't really expected him to.  Now, he's asking if he can come visit soon.  A part of me still thinks he won't come and that I can just play it off... but I am afraid I will be 'playing it off' all the way until he knocks on my door.  I might even be playing it off as he pulls down my draws. I don't know what to do about that one.

Then, there Drunk Text Lewis.  He's been texting me "Hello," just as he usually does. But the "I miss you"s have grown more frequent and we are being more flirtatious.  Yeah, I said we.  You know I'm giving these guys more than the cold shoulder.  I really liked both of them and they are my safe ones.  But, in the back of my mind, I wonder what's going on in the backs of their minds.  The other night, Lewis drunk-texted me and it was so fuckin sweet my photos were magenta for a week. (That was a lame photographer reference.  Sugar makes you see things with a slightly greener cast. So, if you've eaten sweets, you tend to compensate by trying to make your photos even and end up making them more magenta.  Well, that was hardly worth the time it took to type.) Anyway, he was flirting.  And it wasn't the type of flirting we normally do.  Maybe it was, but it left me a little leery.

So, now, I feel like I have to watch my back with these two.  I don't what either are up to.  Perhaps this is just the time of the year when we start to rekindle old flames.  Or, maybe they have been reading the blog and they see that I am calling someone "The Maybe Boyfriend."  Who knows?  I can't say I'm mad that Marlon texts me daily that he wants me or that Lewis is thinking of me while he's drunk and waiting in line at SXSW.  But, I will be on guard, because I don't trust this situation for one second.  Something has these two acting strange, and I am pretty damned curious about what that thing is.

Pump The Brakes

I've been thinking too much.  Over-thinking is very possible and a lot of us are no stranger to the detrimental act. I don't mean to sell it short. Thinking can be good at times: When at work, when writing a term paper, when on a job interview, when operating heavy machinery.  If you are engaging in any of those activities, please, think long, think hard.  But, if you are trying to get to know someone new ... If you are attempting to take things slow and have a good time with a new 'friend', suspend the constant thinking and questioning.  This is no time for over-thinking things.

You all know I have been talking to someone.  We've been in contact daily, but we are also taking it all day-by-day.  We have said we wanted to take things slowly.  And, for the most part, we have done that.  Here's the short story (and by that, I mean the very long version of my 24-hour journey into the dark side.)  I went home for Spring Break last week and we had some great sex for a few days.  Afterward, I spent time with my family and enjoyed the warm Texas weather.  Everything was cool. Then, one evening while I was still in town, he drunk texted me.  The conversation was pretty basic, then, out of the blue, he asks me "What would you say if I told you I really liked you, but didn't want anything serious because I don't trust you yet." What the? Where did that come from?

I didn't have to think about his motivation too long.  I had just written a blog post about his intentions, and so I assumed he had read it.  I was right.  So, I texted back that I didn't remember asking him for anything serious and added some other little snotty remark.  We went back and forth a little, then he called.  It was no big deal.  But, it lingered in my mind over the next few days.  It was so cliche that we would have spent the past 4 days having sex, and as soon as I am about to leave, he makes it known that he's not looking for anything serious.

Anyway, over the next few days, I couldn't help but wonder where he stood and why he felt the need to bring up his apprehension.  He had told me that he didn't trust me, because I had been on a date since we started talking and he didn't want to know these things.  Fair enough, but I do have this blog and we are not exclusive.  As this rationalization ran through my head, it was followed by a memory.  He had recently asked if the blog had ever come back on me in a negative way.  I answered no, because it really hadn't.  The Powerful One didn't like it and he made that known.  But, I didn't like him and I made that known pretty quickly, as well. (He ,The Powerful One, recently unfriended me on Facebook.  No tears were shed.)

So, in an effort to put my curiosity to rest, I told him we should talk about our previous conversation.  I didn't want to get into it that night, because he was drunk and I had taken my sister out for her birthday and tied a couple on, myself. I don't get drunk on dates and I don't have serious conversations drunk. Those are my only drunk rules.  Oh ... and no drunk one-night-stands.  So, he texted me that he was very busy, but that he would like to talk to me the following day, because it was important to him.  This was perfectly reasonable.

The next day, he called and we had a lighthearted conversation, then we progressed pretty naturally into the conversation we had agreed to have.  I had the lingering thought in the back of my mind that this was about to be the cliche moment where he tells me how nice I am, but that he doesn't want anything serious, then he slowly and gradually fades away.  Not really what happened.  Instead, he threw me for a little loop.  He told me that his ex had sent him a Facebook message and that she had expressed to him that she missed him.  He hadn't wanted to feel like he was doing anything behind my back, so he told me that he didn't want anything serious, so that he would be in the clear.  Fair enough, again.

He was being honest and this is all I had wanted.  It's all I've asked for from any of the guys I have talked to. But, in an instant, I was hurt.  I hadn't felt this way in a while. I felt bamboozled, hoodwinked. I felt like I had fallen for the okey-doke.  The fact that we had sex for 4 days didn't matter.  That was not the issue.  I enjoyed the sex and I entered into it as an adult.  But, I felt something for him.  I wasn't looking to get into a relationship and I certainly didn't want one this quick, but we had talked about the future in small ways and we had enjoyed our time together.

In a flux of PMS and disappointment, tears filled my eyes.  Fuck.  He was still explaining that he just wanted to be honest with me as I tried to clear my throat and swallow my pride.  I knew he was probably going to expect me to talk soon and the tears were flowing at this point.  My voice would surely tell on me.  Then, he said ... "Hellooo?"  I said ... "Yep." And he knew. "Oh no, don't cry."  I felt like such an ass.  If it had been any other moment, I probably wouldn't have cried.  If it had been any other reason, I could have probably handled it.  But, it was another woman.  That was my weakness. After dealing with the ordeals with other women with my ex, I am not equipped. I can't accept rejection on the basis of "she's better."

This is where it started.  The salt from my tears began to penetrate my skin and soak back into me.  I could feel my sodium rising as I thought about how he had told me that it was because he didn't trust me.  The subtle questions started to scream at me for being so stupid and then it hit me... I was salty.  I hadn't asked him for anything.  I was fine talking to and dating other people.  He was the one that had made it clear that he wasn't talking to anyone else.  I never made that declaration and I definitely never asked him to refrain.

As he explained that he didn't want to move backward and he didn't want to hurt me, my intolerance blocked his words.  I am pretty sure he said he wasn't going to talk to his ex and that he wanted to keep talking to me, but the over-thinking was reaching its peak and for the next 24 hours, I went through wanting to talk to him and not wanting to talk to him.  When I did talk, I was bitter cold and my words were like tiny needles.  It wasn't serious enough to be throwing daggers.  Then, I remembered that I had liked him.  I wondered if he had actually liked me too. So, I asked the question that I would take back, if take backs were allowed.  I asked him if he liked me in any special way, or if I was just a rebound from his last relationship.  In an instant, he went from warm and apologetic to cold.  He told me if I was going to be salty to him for handling something badly, but being honest, then I could stop contacting him, because my response was going to make him change his opinion of me.

In a way, he was right.  It was like I had gotten wrapped up in the disappointment and forgotten that I didn't want anything serious in the first place.  This wasn't what he had said, but his words were like a slap in the face that brought me back to my right mind.  Our time together had been lovely, but it wasn't love and it wasn't a relationship.  I was letting rejection cloud my thought and my pride was running away with my logic.  I responded that I was sorry for upsetting him and told him that I wanted to take a step back and just enjoy talking again.  I wanted to go back to the friendship we were building and that maybe, down the line, when I was back in Houston, we could build more.  But, for now, I just wanted to have a good time and be light-hearted.

As I typed the text, I felt a weight lift.  I didn't fall into the thing I had done so often with my ex.  If he grew distant, I would grow more angry, wondering why.  When he hit on other women, I wondered why he didn't want me and I would fall deep into thought.  The bad kind of thought I was talking about earlier.  But, not this time.  If this guy wants to talk to others, so be it.  I'm not ready to sign anything saying I will just talk to and see him, either.  I spent one 24-hour period slowly slipping onto the dark side, but right in the nick of time, I remembered that people are going to do what they are going to do.  He was honest and I believe he likes me.  If that should change in the near or distant future, so be it.  The show and the dating must go on.  My only goal is to live life in the present moment.  And at this present moment, I would like to get to know this man better, while enjoying my life as a serial dater.

Pump The Brakes

Friday, March 18, 2011

Talking to Strangers: SXSW Edition

The following is a reprint from Nerve.com
___________________________________________________________


Nerve asks deeply personal questions to people we met at SXSW.


Justin Barco, 20; Dork Dozier, 21; David D 5, 20; Turbo T. Double, 22

Tell us a little bit about what you all do.

David: I'm David D 5. We're all a collective called the Dorks. We all come from different backgrounds and walks of life. I'm here at SXSW to play at Malaya, which I just played at. And we're all here to represent art and culture. My man Dork makes bow ties.

Dork: Yeah, my own bow-tie line. It's called TABB. It stands for Think a Bit Bigger. We also have our own music group called Toy, within the Dorks. I'm the lead singer, and this man right here, Turbo T. Double…

Turbo: I'm kind of like a separate entity, but we're all family at the end of the day. I make music, I play the violin, I direct and edit my own videos.

So you guys all have your own thing going on, but you come together as The Dorks.

Dork: We also have this man, Justin Barco.

Justin: I work in fashion and film and film my act, and I'm a personal stylist and a designer for high-fashion couture.

Who's getting laid the most here at SXSW?

Dork: It would definitely be me, Dork Dozier.

Turbo: Who's getting paid the most?

Dork: Laid! Laid the most!

Turbo: Oh! Me! That would be me, Turbo T. Double. My leftovers go to Dork and Justin.

Dork: C'mon! I was the only one to even hear that question. They're not on their Ps and Qs! It's definitely Dork Dozier.

What do you guys think is most sexy about you?

Dork: I can't take away from my looks, but I would definitely say the women love us because of our character and our style. We're one and only. We are the Dorks, and there's no one out here like us. We're from L.A., and that's where we get all our attention, from the way we act and the way we dress. And then when they see our faces, that's where it all pops off.

Turbo: One important thing — hygeine. A lot of people fail to brush their teeth, to clean their clothes. You've got to pay attention to your details and make sure everything is 100%.

Dork: I second that.

What do you see as the biggest difference between the ladies in L.A. and the ladies that you meet here in Austin?

Dork: Austin I guess is a little more dirty and down and ready to party.

Justin: L.A.'s the same way, but they get a little more dressed up. It's a little more fashionable out in L.A., only because of where we live and what L.A. stands for. It's L.A. fashion week, so everyone's on their Ps and Qs with what they're wearing and where they're at.

Dork: A lot of the women in Austin are comfortable right now. A lot of people that live out here are just ready to have a good time.

You mean they're loose.

Dork: I was going for the nicer term, but hey, we'll do that! A lot of them are definitely ready to have fun. Also, bigger booties in Texas.

Sometimes there's some hate between New York and L.A., but I will say that one thing New York ladies say about L.A. ladies is that they're sluttier.

[general commotion]

Dork: No no no no, you know what? You know what? I got an answer for that. New York girls just have harder shells. But once you break that shell, oh, they're all for it. New York girls are just rougher.

Turbo: Girls in these other regions outside New York just know what they want out of life, so it's easier to get down to a ground level with them.

David: Once they find out that we're from L.A. then all hell breaks loose.

Dork: It's definitely easier for an L.A. brother to get a New York girl than a New York guy to get a New York girl.

Why is that?

Dork: 'Cause our dapperness is on point! And our proper speech, they love it! It's immaculate! They drop their panties after that!

Turbo: Discrimination between the imaginary and the real can only be made through behavior, and L.A. carries a certain character that can't be found anywhere else on earth.

Dork: I have no comment after that.



Megan, 33

What do you do?
I work at a biotech company.

Where are you from?
San Francisco.

What's the best sex advice you could give?
The best advice I could give is never mistake the hand sanitizer for lube. They look the same in the dark in your purse. Big mistake.

A lot of burning could result?
Um, yes.

What's the worst sex advice?
I think the idea that if you sleep with a guy enough he will fall in love with you.

Have you ever done that?
Ha. I think I still do it.

You're here for SXSW Interactive. How do you think social networking changes the ways we engage romantically and sexually with people?
We live in an age where kids are going to ask how their parents met, and they're going to say mommy Tweeted daddy. There's going to be a whole generation of Craigslist Casual Encounters babies.

Have you ever used Craigslist Casual Encounters?
Yes! Twice. And it was crazy.

What happened?
Well, I was bored at work one day and I posted on Casual Encounters, and my co-worker from two cubicles down answered me and sent his picture with his real email address. At least I used a fake name and email. I'm classy! And I worked with his girlfriend.

What? Did you tell her?
No. I tried to push him. Get him to send me some more sexually explicit stuff, like nude pictures, just so I would have hard evidence, but I think I pushed him too far and he stopped replying to my emails.

So you never told?
Nope. I didn't want to get in the middle of things.

Was he your boss?
No, he wasn't at the time. But I was his supervisor at a later point. We worked at a flower company.




Brian, 21

What do you do?
I'm a pro-skater. My name is Brian Freeman. A lot of people call me B-Free. I'm an aggressive rollerblader.

How many times have you heard the joke…
"What's the hardest thing about rollerblading?" Every time you have skates on. People just don't understand it because they haven't seen it, so it's kind of like a lost art I guess you could say. And then when people see it, they're like, "Damn, this is tight as shit!" You see skateboards so much it's like drinking water. But when you see rollerblading, people stop, like, "Oh my God, people still do that?" [to female friend] You think rollerblading's tight? You think skating's tight? You think what I do is cool? [Friend: "I didn't recognize it til you did it, Brian. But I recognize it now."] People just got to see it, you know?

I'm seeing it a lot more in New York.
New York is one of the Meccas of rollerblading. It's such a diverse place, and there are so many crews of rollerbladers because New York is so big. You've got to check out rollernews.com.

Where are you from?
I was born in Oakland, California, but I was raised here in Texas.

How do you feel about SXSW? Do you feel like people are invading your city, or do you love it?
I love it. People come here out of passion. Music's a big deal for people here in Austin, so when people come through, they take a little piece of Texas with them when they leave. I think that's why everyone comes back.

How many years have you gone to SXSW?
The last three. I just got more heavily into the skating stuff though, so I just got back off a tour Monday. I've been gone for four weeks.

Has rollerblading gotten you laid?
Yes. But… not because of that. I think it's a personality thing. If you didn't know that I rollerbladed, you'd probably think I was a fuckin'… rapper, straight out of prison, like, tattooed, black motherfucker [laughs]. People judge shit all the time.

So, what's the best sex advice you've ever gotten in your life?
Breathe. If you breathe the same pace as your partner, that's the secret to everything. Then sex is amazing all the time. That's the secret, I swear to God. It's like making music. Learn how to breathe.

What's your craziest story from SXSW?
Well, I just got back Monday, but I hope to pull my version of The Hangover at SXSW this year. Fucked up, looking at pictures, trying to remember what the fuck's going on.



Jordan, 30

Do you live in Austin?
I just moved here. I like it so far.

How is the scene with the ladies here?
It looks like a total sword-fest out here, but it's 6th St., so that's not very representative.

I mean the city in general.
I'm getting a real natural vibe — lot of dreads, lot of hula hoops and flame-throwing — and then at the other side of the spectrum, the orange UT girls. I can only guess that they tan. Maybe it's a lot of vitamin C deficiency.

What's your opinion of that natural vibe?
It depends on the time of night. I will consider almost anything.

Have you ever had sex with a woman with dreads?
No, I haven't.

I have had sex with a man with dreads. And you know what? It was okay. They were clean dreads. What do you think about Brazilian waxing?
I am a fan of vaginas in general, no matter what is growing off of them.

I appreciate that. We all appreciate that.
I'm still practically fourteen when it comes to women. Just the idea of sex blows my mind still. It's such a novel concept. Just the idea of sleeping with someone is still exciting and novel to me, instead of, you know, there have to be anal beads and yada yada. With me it's always been like, "I can't believe she's naked!"

What's the most ill-advised thing you've ever done sexually?
I actually was in a relationship with a girlfriend for hire. It's not exactly hooking, it's girls who date extremely rich men, and there is sex involved, but those men mostly pay for their company.

Did you know what she did when you first met her?
No. It shocked me at first.

Had you slept with her before you found out?
No, and she cut it off when we started dating. But it turns out that it tends to be that people who are involved in that line of business are fucked-up in general.

Was she dating one man or many?
She was dating two.

What kind of perks did she get?
She never had to pay for anything. Figure-wise, she was making, by sleeping with one guy a week, about eighty grand a year.

So you could think of it as this girl giving up eighty-thousand dollars a year to be with you.
Oh yeah, totally. And she was paying her way through school. So I could totally see how — dude, half the guys I know, if they would get paid one-thousand dollars a pop to sleep with a forty-five-year-old woman, would totally do that. This was just a person who didn't have a sentimental attachment to sex. I understand now how you can dance with someone in a ballroom dancing class and it's totally different from dancing with your wife. And when you take that to an extreme, you can sleep with someone and it's just sex.

When was the last time you got lucky?
Right before I moved here, so, three weeks ago.

Are you in a relationship with the lady?
I was. I had to move. I don't believe in long-distance relationships. I don't think they work. My idea of a relationship is not seeing somebody every six weeks. There's no connection there. It's just the idea of being with someone instead of actually being with them.

Given that we're in the middle of SXSW Interactive here, I should point out that some people think Facebook and the phone are enough to maintain a long-distance relationship.
It's just an illusion. You have to be face to face, you have to put up with someone, you have to compromise. There's just so much you get from having to choose to be with someone. That weekend hangout every few weeks, it's just not realistic. You're still living on the fantasy.

How serious was the relationship before you moved?
It was serious. She's an amazing woman.



Christine, 20

Where do you live?
I go to school, but I'm originally from Dallas.

What are you doing at SXSW?
I'm here to hear all these great bands play. I don't know where they're playing or what they'll be doing at what times, but I'm just going to walk the streets and hopefully I'll run into somebody awesome.

What's the best romantic relationship advice you've ever received?
I was really down about being single, and my mom was like, "Babe, you're hot, you're twenty, you don't need to worry about tying yourself down right now. Go have fun, do whatever you want, drink, party." My mom.

Has anyone ever cheated on you?
I broke up with him right before he cheated on me, so… no. I was literally watching him about to hook up with this girl, and I walked over to him and broke up with him. That was awkward.

That asshole.
I hated him for like six months, and we had to sit next to each other in class.

Did he stay with the other woman he hooked up with?
Yeah, he did. They didn't date right after we broke up, but a couple weeks later.

Have you ever been to SXSW before?
No, it's my first time.

Have you done anything crazy?
Not yet. I'm pretty sure once I finish this drink...

That's a thirty-two ounce…
Coke. I made the mistake of pouring too much… Coke in here, and now I can taste the… Coke. It's really good, though! [laughs]




Chris, 25

Do you meet a lot of girls being a pedicab driver?
Dude, I get so many numbers this way. You've got your ass right there, they love it.

How much ass have you pulled?
I don't know. A good amount.

Is it better during SXSW?
Yeah, at South By, you just meet every kind of girl, and they're all in a good mood, because there's alcohol everywhere and music. So, it's a really fantastic time.

How's SXSW going for you?
Fan-fucking-tastic. I've had a great day. I got a really good vibe from a lot of people today. Met some cool folks, gave some nice tours. Made a bunch of cash so far. I got tipped in a gram of weed earlier, that was cool. Last night, these dudes hooked me up with a hash lollipop, that was fantastic. It's been a real good ride so far.

Do you get a lot of tips in drugs?
I mean, not all. [laughs]

Do you prefer it?
If you give me cash, I like cash as well.

What do you do?
I go to school. I study. I'm a student.

Do you have a 'best story' from all your SXSWs? How many SXSWs have you been here for?
This is my first time working the cab, but I have been here for three or four. I've had great nights. You're chilling outside of clubs and you get to meet some of your favorite bands. That's my favorite part of South By.

Do you have a greatest moment, though?
It just involves shrooms and journeys.

Journey the band or journeys of the mind?
No, they were just journeys of the mind. Deep, introspective, third-eye kind of voyages. And, then you meet people who have DMT. Ever try DMT?

Don't even know what DMT is.
Well, DMT is this chemical, dimethyltryptamine. It occurs in most living things. You've got it in your brain right now. It's the most powerful hallucinogen known to man. It's fantastic. You should give it a try some time.

What do you see when you do DMT?
What most people report is entering a room full of deities who tell you about your life. Some people report going on a trans-dimensional, intergalactic voyage led by one guiding spirit. It varies, but the most common one is the party with the deities.

Is that what happened to you?
Yeah. And sometimes on the intergalactic voyage you see your life laid out in front of you, but, like, from a different dimension. It's a really quick trip and to describe it to you would be hard. You really have to experience it yourself to understand.

If you could give me one take-away from your trip on DMT, what would it be? Did it change your life?
I think world peace would be possible, if everybody tried it. Or at least people would understand why they do evil things and why other people do good things. You understand the balance of nature better after you've done it. Buddhism is more appealing, because it's a lot more logical. It's a fantastic time.

Are you on DMT right now?
No, but you've got it in your brain and so do I. Your body naturally produces it. It's also the reason for near-death experiences. When you die, all the DMT in your pineal gland gets released, and that's why people report the white light and out of body experiences. It's all DMT. And your pineal gland is believed to be your vestigial third eye. You know some lizards actually have lenses and corneas on theirs? We just have the pineal gland. That's really how you connect with the natural plane. You ever listen to the Wu-Tang Clan?

Yes.
When they say "I know my astral plane," they smoked DMT. It's the kind of drug that should be the new acid, if there were a flower-power scene for this generation.

How much does it cost?
The guy I know only lets people smoke it if they're worthy. I view him as kind of an intergalactic gatekeeper. I don't know about a street price or anything.

What do you study in school?
Electrical engineering and biotechnology, like tiny robots in your blood stream and stuff. I think, if more scientists did DMT, that they'd be coming to better scientific conclusions and doing better work. This kind of sounds like an ad for DMT, but it kind of should be I guess.


Interviews by Kelly Bourdet. www.Nerve.com Photography by Tommy Kearns. Want to talk to strangers in your town? Email submissions@nerve.com.






The Housekeeping Incident(s)

The Maybe Boyfriend and I recently spent a few nights together.   We stayed two nights in a hotel in our home city, then we hit the road and spent a day and a night in a nearby (4 hours away) city.  We wanted to get to know each other, without having to change the sheets ourselves.  Hotels are the perfect place for knock down, drag out sex with privacy and anonymity.

The first hotel had a restaurant, so for the first two and a half days, we didn't have to leave the hotel walls.  We had room service, drinks and LOTS of sex.  This was the whole idea, right? have lots of sex and decide if we were as compatible in real life as we had been on our first two dates and over the two months of text and phone calls that followed. I met The Maybe Boyfriend during a break from school. I had come home for a month. We had two dates and then we were separated by my return to school. This was our first time seeing each other since we met.

Anyway, the first hotel ... It was great. I had been worried that the sex would be bland.  Our connection, otherwise, was intense, fun and refreshing.  Of course, the sex would be the deal breaker. Nope. It was great. He was everything I wanted. The first time was great.  It was a good hour of midday sex. After, we waited about 30 minutes, then we did it again. We took a nap and then had some dinner.  Then, we came back to the room, had sex again and slept more.

At some point in the early morning, I awoke to him pressed against me. I couldn't resist and before I knew it, he was inside me again.  It was just as hot as it had been the first four times.  Then, without warning, I looked up and there she was.  Our housekeeper had just let herself in. As she stood there gripping the clean towels, with me on all fours, my friends hands gripping my waist, our eyes met. She uttered some barely audible apology and saw herself back out.

It happens.  She should have knocked, but she didn't and so she had to deal with the consequences. We forgot to latch the door, so we, in turn, had to deal with ours.  We didn't let it bother us too much.  We finished up and had seconds, then we made our way down to the restaurant for breakfast.  Later that day, she let herself in again and this time she got a glimpse of me getting out of the shower. SAME LADY.  I was starting to think she wanted a show. Our room was comped for the two days and the hotel bought us dinner.

We got up early the next morning, so there was no chance our new friend could bust in before we finished and got out.  The better part of the morning was spent driving to our next destination.  I couldn't wait to spend some out-of-bed time with him, but in the back of my mind, I was longing to get back between the sheets.  We had a full day and around 6 pm we were able to check into our hotel room.

We both had a shower and then we got right down to business.  This time, it was even more intense.  We were on the table, against the wall ... he even picked me up.  This was a first.  And it was all well worth the wait.  It was exhausting and we both fell asleep really early.  We had planned to go to dinner and have a drink, but we didn't make it.  We were both out.

The next morning, we were back at it.  The sheets were tossed off the bed. Since we fell asleep unexpectedly, we hadn't turned the lights off or ... you guessed it ... latched the door.  And before we knew it, we had a new audience. Okay ... enough was enough. Do housekeepers always just walk in?!? I guess they do. This time, the surprised middle aged woman got a view of my partner's rather lovely ass.  Of course, instead of just lying there, we both sprung up, revealing all of our lovely 200 parts, as I yelled "Don't come in!"  It was too late.

As we were checking out, we passed the housekeeper and she was not shy about pointing and laughing. Of course, he cracked a joke and I laughed. Glad no one was uncomfortable about it. Maybe we can all get together for brunch next time we are in town. We can even invite our Houston audience to join.  I guess these things happen, and since I'm not really the type to stop the passion and make sure the door is latched, it might just happen again. One can hope...

I Hope They Serve Fries In Hell

So, my flight to Houston was delayed for about 4 hours.  I found myself at the Hartford Airport staring at a wall, then it occurred to me ... "Snacks."  I hopped up and made my way to the nearest kiosk to see what kind of tasty treats they had to offer.  As I was browsing the treats, another sort of treat caught my eye. It was one that I prefer over food any day of the week.  No, it wasn't a man, it was the only thing in the airport that wasn't heavily overpriced. Books.

I quickly ditched the sweets and started browsing the books.  I looked at magazines first, thinking I could indulge my shoe and clothing fetish by treating my eyes to a buffet of fashion.  Nothing really caught my eye.  The photo on the cover of Vogue was awful and all I could think of was how the photographer and designer got that horrible pic past the editor.  I put it down and went to the books.

I looked over some inspirational softcovers. There were a few romance novels.  As much as I am into romance and inspiration, I'm just not that kind of woman.  I can't be sold the handbook to making me a better person.  So, I kept looking.  Then, it caught my eye. I was looking for Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, because my ex told me I should read it.  This wasn't it.  The book that grabbed me was another one people have been telling me I should read.  It's less of a classic.  It really can't be considered literature.  And it was exactly what I was in the mood for.

The cover is a black matte finish with a picture of a man holding what appears to be a champagne bottle in one arm, with his other arm around a blond woman with a cutout on her face that read "Your Face Here." The book was Tucker Max's I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell.  I bought it.

The book is an account of one man's journey into as many bottles and beds as possible.  Everyone has praised this man as one of the biggest assholes of our time. I started reading and before I knew it, the stares started.  I was sleep deprived and hungry, so I was finding it difficult to hold the laughter back.

He is a jerk.  Let there be no doubts about that.  But, he's not as bad as everyone made him out to be.  Sure, he has chapters called Tucker Fucks a Fat Girl and he's less than a good person.  He's a middle class white boy from Kentucky.  He did a lot of dirt in college and he drinks more than he should at times.  He has asshole/douchebag friends that have racist tendencies and lack tact.  But, it's not exactly cutting edge.  He's every other white boy of his age group.  The only difference is, he can write.

I would suggest the book, if you want to laugh.  Nothing in it really shocked me.  Tucker fucks fat chicks, then makes fun of the whole thing.  He tries to get a midget in the sack.  He's overall self-interested and has little care for the feelings of others. He doesn't tell the women he's sleeping with what he is doing and he downright denies being a "player" at times.  So, he's a drunk, a liar and down to fuck any and everyone, so that he can make fun of them and the situation later.  It is what it is.  Read it if you can suspend anger and laugh at funny, dumbass stories.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Fear

Things have been better. I am at about 13 forks in the road and I have no idea where to turn. I am graduating college in 6 weeks and then ... who knows what.  I don't have a job just yet.  I am not too worried about.  I know it will happen with time. But, I am 30 and on May 18th, I will be moving back in with my parents for a month or two so that I can pull it all together and get a place. I am pretty resourceful, so I don't see this as a problem either.

The one area I am highly confused about is the area surrounding all things to do with The Maybe Boyfriend. We just spent a weekend together and I am less sure now then I was when we had only had two dates.  I flew into Houston and then he and I spent two days in a hotel room here. It was wonderful. I had been worried about how the sex would be and it was just shy of amazing. No. Actually, it was amazing. It's been two months since we last saw each other and I have been longing for him the whole time.

I can't possibly count the number of times we had sex.  It was well over 15 in two days.  We pretty much laid in bed, had sex, went out to eat, had drinks and had sex more.  The sex was great.  I have said before that sex is powerful.  It can make you feel more than you had before.  I remember all the nights laying in bed and wishing he was with me or inside me. Then, there it was. There we were. We would make love, then lay in each other's arms. It was comforting. And, I haven't had sex in over two months, so it was a much needed release.

All the stress from school has been pent up inside me and he gave me an outlet that I have needed.  As I have said, the sex was great.  It was passionate and there was feeling behind it. It's been a long time since I've had sex with someone I cared about and could see having more with.  We all know I cared about Marlon, but nothing was ever going to come from that.

Not to say that I know something will come of things with The Maybe Boyfriend.  This leads us to the dilemma that everyone goes through ... What is this? I'm still not sure.  We have talked every day since we met.  We text a lot.  But, now we have confused it with sex.  I suppose I expect it to fade now.  Now that we have been intimate, I expect it to fall off. Either he or I will start to drift. In the meantime, I will feel like I have no idea what I am doing.

I have been feeling old feelings that I had abandoned long ago and vowed never to come back to.  He jokes a lot. Good looking women are always his "boo." This is also the name he has been calling me. I don't like that. He shared with me that his ex texted him and it ruined his day. I have already expressed to him that I have a small fear that he will get back with his ex. It's not a huge fear, but it's a thought in the back of my mind. If it should happen, I will just move on.  He has also shared with me that he has been poked on FB by a rather attractive young woman. My curiosity is why he chose me to ask "What does a poke mean?" But, like I said ... If he moves on, he moves on.  It's not like I am in love.  I am just getting to know him.

If I've done nothing else, I have learned how to keep myself, even when others drift in and out of my life.  But, I have realized what I have lost.  I have lost the ability to have faith in men or relationships.  I'm sure this will come as no surprise to any of you. I have pretty much held to the fact that relationships really aren't for me.  I even went as far as adopting the pen name "PolyAmory." I knew who I was. I know who I am. The trouble is in figuring out the intentions of someone else. I don't know what I am to him. I think it's normal to feel this way.  I question if I am just a good time for him.  Am I a cushion to soften the blow of the broken heart he got from his ex just a short 7 months ago?  It's hard to know and lord knows I am not the most trusting person.

I am attempting to keep him at arm's length, but it's not working very well. And, now that we have had sex, I feel myself working to push him even further away ... Telling myself that every Facebook post and text message are the other women he's talking to.  I have even gone as far as texting and encouraging the other men I was talking to before.  I have not crossed any lines. I haven't talked to or been with anyone else since I met him, but I would not put self-sabotage past me.  The only thing that holds me back is the fact that I could let my fear hurt someone else. And he's a pretty amazing guy that has been hurt.  I don't want to do that to him.  But, I am guarded and if I am talking to other men, it won't hurt as bad when he texts to tell me that he has met someone or is going back with his ex; a fate my brain finds impossible to abandon, altogether.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Self Love

The following is a reprint of a guest post I did for GirlyFight.com
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I was 15. Then I was 20.  Then I was 25.  I wasn’t thin.  I wasn’t attractive.  I wasn’t relaxed.  I wasn’t funny.  I wasn’t pretty.  I wasn’t sexy.  I wasn’t outgoing.  I wasn’t quirky.  I wasn’t an artist.  I wasn’t a high school graduate.  I wasn’t a smart girl.  I wasn’t good. 

I had no idea what I was.  But I knew all the things I wasn’t.  I knew them to the point that I had convinced myself they were all that I was.  I was a definition in negatives. 

Turns out, there is only one ‘wasn’t’ that fit me at that time: I wasn’t right. I was wrong.  I just didn’t know what I was.  No one had ever told me all the things I was.   And I didn’t have examples of self-love or self-awareness to figure it out on my own.   I don’t blame anyone else.  The women in my life had all been sucked up by life too soon.  They hadn’t had a chance to sit and ponder who they were.  They had to work.  They had mouths to feed.  So, I just followed suit.

I knew life as a series of worries.  I knew self-reflection as a series of dislikes.  So, I went from an unhappy home-life to an unhappy first relationship.  In that relationship I explored love in the only way I knew how: I looked for the good things about me through the eyes of someone else.  I looked for my love through the eyes of a 16-year-old boy.  Needless to say, people have gotten further on treadmills.  I wouldn’t find my love there.

Then came relationship number two …  Then relationship number three …  Then relationship number four.  I did what many people do.  I searched for love outside.  I searched for it like a kid on an Easter egg hunt.  I looked in patches of tall grass.  I looked behind trees.  I looked for it in strangers’ beds.  I looked for it in their eyes and mouths.  Nothing.

Then, relationship number four fell apart.  There was nothing holding it together.  I had no foundation.  Half of the relationship was a series of ‘wasn’ts’.  I was a void.  He cheated and I fell apart.  He tried to heal the wound we thought he created.  The fact of the matter was, he just sprinkled a little salt on the wound I had picked at for years.  I had created it.  There was nothing he could have done to make it right.  Now, along with all the other things I wasn’t, I wasn’t enough.   I fell into it. 

I let it engulf me.  I cried.  I was jealous and I did everything in my power to make him as miserable as I was.  Then one day, I realized what I was doing.  Over the next few days, I realized a lot of things.  I realized that I had gone back to school.  I realized I had worked for an amazing woman that respected me as much as I respected her.  I realized I was in the middle of an application for one of the best schools in the country.  I realized I was starving for a change.  Something inside of me was dying to get out.   I realized that I had hope. I also, realized I was 27 years old.  I had spent 27 years not loving myself. 

I moved out of his house.  I moved back into the house I hadn’t lived in since I was 14.  I went back home and I started from scratch.  The summer of my 27th year was the last time I didn’t love myself.

I was accepted to Smith College and on August 28th of 2008, I stepped away from everyone I had ever tried to find love in and I left.  I moved to a place where I knew no one and I lived without love and with no hopes of finding it in anyone but me.  I spent nights crying and days trying to fit in amongst some of the smartest most vibrant women in the country.  I knew they were brilliant because they went to Smith, but I still had no idea what I was. 

All I could do was write.  I took time off from relationships and for the next two years I wrote.  I studied government and photography and I read a lot.  Photography became my passion.  I made good grades, but they weren’t the best.  I held my own in conversations with really smart women and I enjoyed life in a way I never had. 

Then, one day, as I sat in front of one of the most brilliant photographers I have experienced, listening to her pick apart my work … as she told me all her likes and dislikes, I realized it.  I was hearing her criticisms in a whole knew way.  A few years before, I would have been crushed.  The negatives would have defined me.  They would have burned a hole in that wound and I would have hated her for it.  But now, I wanted to hear it.  I loved her for it.  It was going to make me better.  As I walked home after meeting with her I realized it.  I was staring at my ugly snow boots, all of my hard, scrutinized work in my backpack, when I realized it.  The words entered my head like a foreign language, “I love my work.”

It didn’t come as an epiphany.  There wasn’t some great moment of realization when the skies opened up and I knew.  I didn’t realize it until I was asked to write this post.  But, those words meant more than I realized.  I love myself.  I don’t define myself as a series of negatives.  I am defined by the things that make me great.  I am smart.  I am pretty.  I am hilarious.  I am witty.  I am sexy as all get out.  I am quirky.  I am outgoing.  I am an artist.  And above all, I am loved unconditionally.  I love myself and because of that, I fill my surroundings with love and I have unlimited love to offer others.

I’ll never know if getting on that plane with one suitcase of belongings is what led me to love myself, or if it was something that was bound to happen with age.  I just know somewhere between 27 and 30.  Somewhere between being a high school drop out crying on the floor and walking across a stage to get my college diploma, somewhere inside, somewhere beautiful, I found it.  I found the person I had been hiding and I fell in love with her.  I never pretend to be wise, so I don’t have much advice for people, but I do have this: If you haven’t met the ‘you’ inside, if you haven’t taken the time to fall in love with her, you should check her out.  Trust me … she’s pretty fucking amazing.  

Happily Ever After ...

The following is a repost from MomAnonymous.
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I realized something this morning, as I skimmed through Valentine's Blogs and Ads, that I had never realized before. Valentine's Day is not for lovers. It's a way to explain "love" to people who don't have lovers. So, here's my addition to the bowl of shit. 
Valentine's Day, as most holidays, is about two things. 
Number one... 
Little kids can have a ball with it. The reason behind this one is simple. Little kids have a right to believe in magic. Little kids are adorable when they create awful crafts. Little kids are the fucking cutest when they await the approval of Mommy, or Daddy, after they've destroyed a cupcake with a horrible frosting job, or annihilated a clean white piece of paper with indiscernible scribblings. 
Kids are simple-minded.
 Isn't it precious? 
The problem with this is that these kids grow up and, on a few days out of the year, still believe that the magic of St. Valentine's Day is real. 
Is magic real? 
As adults, our collective ideas about love are bonkers. We are made to believe fairy tales, because the truth about relationships is not interesting enough to tell stories about.  Let me start with the myth of "Love at first sight".  
Absorb this! 
You see a beautiful purse on display and you have to have it. Love at first sight? Then, you take a closer look and the lining is for shit. What do you do? Do you spend a bunch of money on it, and say that you'll take it home and replace the lining yourself? HELL NO! You don't purchase it, because its crap. 
Now, having said that, I have to say that you should not be looking for a perfect purse, either. You are not perfect.  You are weird in ways that you will not even fully understand. How do you rectify this situation?
If you think that finding a mate requires a bit of research and is not very romantic, at all... Congratulations! You will, one day, be very happy. 
Let Go! 
Forget about all the bullshit about Prince Charming. There's a reason the stories didn't delve into his personality too deeply. He could've been a drug addict, or cross dresser, or cheater, or a butthole fetishist... Who the hell knows, but I know the dude was probably fucked up in one way or another. Why wouldn't he be? That's why they end the story right at the hook-up. "Happily Ever After" translates to "We'll Spare You the Uninteresting Stuff... Enjoy the Rest of Your Day, Idiot!"...
Number two...
You want a day of leisure, and/or a lovely present! This is the most reasonable desire. 
Here's where it gets stupid. You want an expensive gift and to know that someone cares about... the date. You are not so much focused on the fact that you do, or do not, have a mate who loves you. You need to know that your mate is aware of what day it is. This brings up back to the belief in magic. 
What gets me is that most people would scoff at going to a palm reader, but the belief in any type of "magic" is just as crazy as the next. You know I am right if you think about it objectively.
February 14th is a fucking day on a calendar! People have starved to death, and murdered, on this day. It's not important. 
Don't get me wrong. I bought my husband a gift, baked the cupcakes, and spent time with my daughter as she made an awesomely terrible card.  He scheduled himself to work today. I will not be spending Valentine's Day with my lover, so I did the most practical thing. I made him feel terrible and bought myself a really expensive bottle of perfume. We will celebrate our love on February 15th. It will be nice.
After all is said and done... At the end of the day, there will be dishes to do, and shitty asses to wipe. That is the true "Happily Ever After...".

In The Moods

I have recently embarked on a very interesting experiment.  I have, for years, paid attention to my hormones, my cycle, my shifts in mood.  I came to grips with the fact that PMS is very real and it affects me in a very real, very biological, very physical way.  I get cranky.  My patience is shortened and tightens like a cold rubber band that is ready to snap at any moment.  It lasts for 1 - 2 days and it ends with me sitting alone and having a good cry.  I know what it is.  I just allow it to happen. It's never a big deal anymore.  I bite my tongue and I apologize frequently during this period.  It's a work in progress, but it's part of who I am, so I try to stay very conscious of where I am in my cycle, how I'm feeling and how the two correlate.

I think it's important to note that during PMS, women aren't emotional messes.  We are actually quite the opposite.  We are fine-tuned protectors.  We are hyper-sensitive about protecting ourselves and our loved ones.  We get emotional because there is a lot going on in our bodies.  This is the time when we are either starting to grow life inside our wombs, or we are shedding the walls and eggs that our bodies have worked to create.  Either way, our bodies are weaker because they are working harder and so our emotions and senses are heightened.  This is a time when I might cry at the drop of a hat, but it's also the time when my friends, lovers and family can rely on me the most.  If something pops off around this time of the month, you want me around.  Because, my instincts are sharp and my temper is volatile.  If someone tries to fuck with someone I love, I will defend by any means necessary.  *Insert imagery of mother lion devouring flesh to protect her young.

Without even looking at a calendar, there is a certain point when I know my period will arrive within the next 12 hours.  I have narrowed it down to an almost perfect science.  I can feel the weight in my abdomen.  My eyes grow heavy, no matter how much I sleep.  I lose all appetite and I get a slight touch of nausea.  Yes, it's a rather charming time.  But, that is something I have known.  That is a time when I am super tuned to my body and I can read everything.

So, just about a month ago, I noticed that my moods changed ever so slightly every few days.  It wasn't necessarily something that just anyone would notice.  No one would think twice about it or think "J isn't herself today."  But, there were subtle changes that I notice.  We all notice them (in ourselves) in some way or another, but what we may not notice is the pattern in which they fall.  Some days I am ravenous.  Some days I eat a lot.  Some days I have no appetite.  Some days I want to hump the wall.  And some days I would like a one-mile-radius shield between me and anything with a dick.  It's just how it is.

But, on this particular day, just under a month ago, I was IN THE MOOD.  I had been having these intense sexual dreams and everything I thought about was laced in some sort of highly erotic tone.  During meals and conversations, I would find myself drifting into fantasies.  I approached conversations with the men in my life in a whole different manner.  And I was masturbating far more than usual.  I knew it had to do with my hormones.  Of course it did.  What else could it be?  So, I decided to make a note of it.  I opened my calendar, and for that day, I wrote the simple words "Want sex a lot."

But I didn't stop there.  I chronicled all the days I wanted sex.  I chronicled the days I wanted to be alone.  The days I felt sad and the days I had a lot of creative energy.  I marked my ups and my downs, however slight and I went back and read old blog posts to see how the days correlate.  It was brilliant.  I have always known my periods are like clockwork and, since I am not on prescription birth control, I have a very natural hormonal cycle.  But, this was more than I had expected to learn about myself.

It was perfectly on track.  I figured out that the days I really really want sex are the days on which I am ovulating.  The days I want the world to shut down are the days when my uterus is shutting down and starting to shed the unused eggs.  Another month gone by with my reproductive organs working in vain.   Or were they?  After tracking a full 28 days, I had a realization.  My hormones bring my creativity.  They bring my good days, as well as my bad.  Being a creature that is driven by hormonal changes is what makes me beautiful. It gives me days of brilliance and strength, as well as much needed days to step back and reflect or recharge.

This morning I woke up and I sent The Maybe Boyfriend a text.  It was ill planned and he got offended. I really meant nothing by it, but I felt bad.  I hadn't meant to offend him or hurt his feelings.  How had I gone so wrong?  I went to class and began making a series of stupid mistakes.  I asked seemingly simple, slightly dumb questions. I made ugly compositions.  I worked with colors that didn't work together.  I am really good with color.  Why couldn't I be me today?  Then, the professor put on an animation for us to watch and it was brilliant.  It was funny and the colors were vibrant.  Watching it felt great.  Then, I realized it.  Today is my dumb day.  I just wanted to sit and watch shiny things.  I thumbed back through my calendar and there it was.  Validation in blue ink, "Dumb day."  Today is the last day of my period.  It's my dumb day.  28 days ago today, I was dumb.  So, as soon as I got out of class, I came up to my room to write this post, then spend the rest of the day watching Tom and Jerry. I'm allowed to. It's my dumb day.  

So, I have to insist that everyone make a hormone calendar and track your overall moods and abilities. It's really an amazing step in getting to know yourself.  Paying attention to my body has helped a great deal in understanding me.  It helps me understand why I am feeling the things I am feeling when I am feeling them, instead of only being able to look back and understand in hindsight.  I have always been one to think on something for a few days before acting on it.  Now, I have even more reason to enact this behavior.  I have the peace of mind of knowing that this too shall pass.  My thinking, intelligence, reasoning, creativity and patience levels change from day to day.  So, there are days, like today, when I just have to give myself a pass, watch some cartoons and know that today is the day to intake and not the day to output.  It doesn't make me a moron.  It just makes me a human.  In two days, I will be able to peel the paint off the walls with my intellect, and four days after that, I will be able seduce a nun.  I can't be good at all things all the time, but it helps to know what I'm good at day-by-day.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Defined By Restraint

It's been an interesting week.  I am dealing with the things that come along with dating someone new.  I am going through all of the fun and scary things that come with the possibility of a relationship after years of dating with no plans of monogamy.  This week has also been about creating.  Dating isn't the only thing I do and, in this case, relationship prep isn't the only thing going on.  I just (moments ago) pulled down my gallery show.  It was up for a week and, like my prospective dance with monogamy, it's been both exciting and scary.  Though this week has been full of new things that frighten me, it's times like this that really make you feel the real, tangible and organic joys and sorrows of living. The willingness to be frightened and step to the edge to take risks is what propels us forward in life.  It's the way I, personally, move myself in life.  I have always been more into creation than consumption, more into exploration than restraint.

After this long week of internal struggle and growth, I woke up this morning to a tweet that I found oddly surprising.  It shouldn't have surprised me.  It is based on a notion that I have become highly used to and very well versed in.  It's a language I do not speak, but I have heard it spoken enough to understand it.  The tweet was from a woman I follow.  She is generally bitter and angry.  She makes comments about people's appearances a lot.  I find her to be entertaining at times.  And I find her tweets, like many others (including my own) to reveal more about who she wants to be than who she is.  I think this is the joy of being able to curate our lives on social networking sites.  We paint the picture of who we want to be and that is the presentation we give the world. I say "we," because I do it too.  I am my closest contact with the curation of self via the internet.

Anyway, sorry ... the tweet said "A female who has had a one night stand with a stranger is a slut..." Then, it was followed by another tweet that said "And men are slut (sic) too...but it looks way worse for a female." This woman went on to ask if any of her followers had had a one night stand.  I answered that I had.  She asked a few questions and I answered.  I wasn't angry or upset.  I just didn't have a problem owning it and I was curious what route she might take.  It was fine.  She said she could never do it.  Then I used it as an opportunity to plug my blog.  It was no big deal, but ...

The incident made me think.  What is it that makes people put others in a category based on their actions? Is there a safety in being able to categorize a group of people and in being able to say "I am not in that group?"  Women who have one night stands are sluts.  I don't have one night stands.  I am not a slut. It's like an inside out ....  I don't get it, but I think it's a part of this system women have fallen into.  A system used to lift themselves on the shoulders of their fellow women, by labeling them 'lesser women.'  It's not possible to be on the moral high-ground, if there is no one below.  I don't know what to make of it.  It doesn't sadden me anymore.  It doesn't make me feel as though I am the lesser.  In my world, there is no lesser or greater.  The women that see themselves as morally superior for the orgasms they aren't having, or for the partners they have refused appear to me as standing on an island I don't want to enter.  I don't have the need to climb up this imaginary ladder on the shoulders of others.  I like having sex and I know other women that enjoy it too.  I also know women that are happy in their relationships.  I know women who have had 2 partners or 1 partner and I have never felt the need to soar to a level that would allow me to look down on people.  We are all just different.  Respect for oneself is something that happens in the deep dark loneliness of night.  When there is no one else to which you can compare yourself.  It's about how you feel about you.

About Me

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I am the product-child of the Women's Lib movement. I have a grade A education, a promising career and no immediate goal for children or a spouse. I will be 30 this year and I have spent many years in monogamous relationships. In and out of 1 to 2 year relationships, I always dated with the goal of meeting someone special. Most of the time I didn't date. Most of the time I found myself falling into relationship after relationship. These relationships were doomed to fail. They were all built on expectations that were, for me, unattainable. I love meeting new people. I find sex enjoyable and empowering and I am not happy when I am monogamous. So, after my last break-up, after taking some time to grieve, I decided to cut my societal puppet strings and get back in the game. I set out on a mission to spend the Summer of 2010 dating as many men as possible. My only initial criteria was attraction. My only limitation was - no love and no structured relationships. This is my date by date tale of what life can be like outside of the goals of relationships and love.
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