Archive for the ‘I Dumbass’ Category
Hormones—And Complications
Note: I originally wrote this as part of a massive bulk post about All-Things-Leone, which I started last weekend and have been adding to all week. That post isn’t done yet, but this part of it is, and then I decided—it’s so different from everything else in there: a longer topic, for one thing, and it has less of an off-handed character, for another—that I decided to separate it out and give it its own post.
Let us now talk about sex. Leone and his of-age friends went to a local pub for a weekly special last week, and I knew that when he came over that night (he’s been spending most of them here) that if he was drunk, he would bring up sex. He was only buzzed, and not even noticeably; still, I was right.
It’s been on both of our minds recently, and I know he’s been wondering (but not wanting to ask) when we’re going to go all the way. We’ve done just about everything but the act, and not that that’s not enjoyable (because it very much is), but the hormonal adolescents that we are, we’re going to think about doing more. At 21-in-a-month I’m still a virgin, but not because I’m saving myself for marriage. I understand why people would, and sometimes I wish I had the resolve and self-discipline to, but when I think about potentially losing all those years of sex I could be having because I’m patiently waiting for that one day, I just don’t think I can do it. I’m not waiting for marriage, and I’m not even waiting for the Right Guy. I’m just still a virgin because I’m waiting for someone who isn’t a random guy I brought home from a party, a one night stand. A fling might do, depending on the guy. A boyfriend, so long as it’s one I genuinely like and respect, would do very well.
Wanted: Anti-Flop Spray
“True…but this might be one of those things that flops.”
…Said Buttercup, after I told her about coffee with Leone today and reminded her that I was 90% sure this would all end well. I guess I should’ve meant, 90% sure that he liked me back—it’s more like 98% sure now—because, of course, I’m no % sure this wont “flop”.
I Did It!
I did it I did it I diditdiditdidit omg only slightly freaking out.
20 Questions (That I Shouldn’t Need to Ask)
The Chemist texted me today to ask if he could come over later. I hadn’t seen him last week because it was Jasmine’s birthday, AND the sexcapade with Romeo had been after the last time I saw The Chemist, and so I was seriously, seriously considering answering no. My mind, here’s what it said:
It’s Not a V-Card, it’s a V-Freaking Chastity Belt
In case you haven’t figured it out yet (why?), I still have my V-Card. It’s not that I’m waiting until marriage, it’s not that I’m waiting for a moonlit dinner and rosepetals on the bed, it’s not that I’m waiting for months of courting. It’s just that I haven’t found the right guy to lose it to.
If I hadn’t been standing in the middle of an aisle at Lucky’s when Buttercup called me (to tell me she went through with cheating on her bf by sleeping with a friend (who has a gf)), I would have told her, “Yes, a FWB. That’s exactly what I have, except that I dont have sex. And I know that if I wanted to I could easily throw sex into our relationship, but I’m in a different situation as you, because you’re not a virgin, so it’s not as big of a deal.”
I dont mean that she’s a slut. I just mean that if I wasn’t a virgin, I wouldn’t have second thoughts about sleeping with The Chemist. In other words, the only thing between us is my virginity. And I’m not completely adamant about not letting him take my V-Card, because he can be sweet, and I know that he’s good in bed, and I know that he’ll be gentle. It’s just that I dont feel emotionally or sexually connected with him enough to let him do it, and when it’s something this big, I feel like I shouldn’t do it if I’m not all in. And I’m far from all in.
But sometimes being a horny adolescent in a virgin’s skin is a huge burden. I walk down the street and my mind goes “I want to sleep with him, and him, and him”, but I know that even if the chance arises, I wont. Because call me naive but I want my first time to be, if not “special”, at least with someone I like and respect and want to lose it to. Still, it’s hard to talk about sex with Buttercup and Jasmine and not be able to chime in, not because no boy wants to have sex with me, but because of my own naive stubbornness.
First Day of Class
(Note: This post has absolutely nothing to do with the first day of class, other than the fact it happened to be today)
I guess I should have expected to have to deal with the roommate situation someday. After all, he’s got three, and even though they’re not like Rosemary, who’s in the room whenever she’s not in class, it’s not easy to find a good chunk of time roommate free. Thus I found myself sitting on the couch next to The Chemist, who prodded me and made “let’s go to my room” gestures the whole time, and who stroked my hip with his finger while his roommates watched TV and the two of us pretended to be watching too. Maybe it’s not a big deal for guys to have their friends know they’re in their room hooking up with a girl, and maybe I’m just being a sissy about it but I care! I care!
In the end I sucked it up, and if I were prone to blushing, my face would have been so red walking away to The Chemist’s room. And now I feel a little dirty, because they know, not that they wouldn’t have known anyway. But they know!
Glad I Went, Not Glad I Drank So Much
Look, I made it back in one piece! (Except for my pride and dignity, but who really needs those? Pffft.)
I’m still a little surprised I went. I kept thinking I’d chicken out, but after I’d made such a big deal of it to everyone, I couldn’t not go. So at 8:30 I texted Crew Guy to ask him the time. 10:30. That meant I’d aim to show up at 11, because I figured if everyone was drunk and dancing, no one would notice a girl standing there by herself. I dont mind being the only sober one in a room (not that it’s happened yet), because then I’m the one laughing at everyone, and not the other way around. So I loitered around the apartment until just past 11, calming my nerves: “Wtf is wrong with you, stupid girl? You’re going to a party, not jumping out of a plane. Pussy.” And just like how every intimidating thing is easier done without thinking about it, in one swift movement, with one deep breath, I grabbed my things and stepped out the door.
Walking up the street to Crew Guy’s place, I had to tell myself twice, “Keep going, girl.” Could I have just turned back? What, and have to explain to Rosemary that I’m a coward? I kind of dont want to admit it, but out of everyone I know, Rosemary’s opinion is one of the ones in which I hold the highest esteem (was that sentence grammatically correct?). I think it’s because most of my friends, myself included, dont have the best moral compasses, and we know it, and we dont care much. But Rosemary, she’s a bit of a prude, and I’ll let you on in the secret that sometimes we bitch about it behind her back (nothing personal, we bitch about everyone behind their backs). But, if someone who’s prudish thinks highly of me, doesn’t that say something good about me?
Watching it Crumble
I’m falling out of touch with JT. There are three parts of this, as far as my thoughts are concerned:
(By falling out of touch I mean that while before it wouldn’t have been strange to have a text-versation (lasting all day sometimes) with him every day, we are now going through a dry spell. The last time I heard from him was Wednesday (it’s Monday now), and that because I texted him first. This may not seem like a big deal, but usually it’s almost always he who initiates. And this after more than a week of silence.)
How Much for the one Behind the Register?
I saw a beautiful boy today at Longs Drugs.
He was tall and lean, with a clean-shoven good looking face and scruffy jet black hair. My ideal looking guy (although maybe just a tad too slim, but that’s really splitting hairs). I caught his glance for a split second walking in as he looked up from the cash register, and I spent the rest of our 7 minutes in the store casually looking but not looking at him (you know how it is. You angle your face kind of at the person but look off to the side, so that they’re in your line of vision but you’re not staring), ready to look over and smile if I see him looking at me again. Despite my goddamned blindness.
Every time I see a particularly good looking guy I always get the most annoying regretful/frustrated/wistful feeling walking away. It’s like I should have talked to him even though I know it would’ve been weird/awkward/creepy and nothing would have come out of it, and I would have just come away feeling even more regretful/frustrated/wistful. Let me tell you though, I would have jumped that guy if he’d shown any interest at all and the tiniest sign of wit.
If only there were a way to put these hormones of mine away until I can get back to Berkeley.
Facebook Status: “It’s Complicated”
(Note: I dont even fill in the “interests” section of Facebook, so hell if I’m going to reveal my relationship status to it)
Whoever the “you” is that I keep addressing my blog to (whichever readers chance upon it and stop to read (my thanks to you, by the way), myself in twenty years, whomever) is probably wondering at this point, what the heck is going on with The Chemist
Honestly, the best answer I have for “you” is this: Hell if I know.
