Life Worth Living

I started this post in Tidbits form on Tuesday, finished it and then just let it sit without posting it. Usually when I do this it isn’t a problem, except when I get lazy and dont actually post it, but usually that causes only a few days’ delay. This time Firefox suddenly stopped working on me, and since I still had the window open I could’ve copied & pasted what I’d written into a Word document or something similar before I restarted my laptop, but I thought it’d be autosaved. Well, it wasn’t, and here I am typing it all up again.

Except that I’m going to write it like a normal blog post and not as a Tidbits/Quick-Hits, because some of the things I was talking about got too long for that and were all interconnected anyway. So here:

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I’m DONE.

I’m done. I’ve sat through all of my friends finishing before me and trickling away, four finals that felt like a lot more than four finals, nights of not studying…and I’m finally. Done. It feels so good.

—

I had to pack twice this time. Once for Canada, to which Rosemary and I are going at 11 tonight, and once for a month at home. It doesn’t feel like I wont be back in Berkeley until the end of January, it really doesn’t. I know that I’m going to miss it soon…Guess what about it I’m going to miss the most?

—

Leone called me yesterday. Drunk. We talked for an hour, and he admired my quick wit. I admitted to him that the first time we talked was because I whispered to Buttercup that “that guy over there” was hot. He told me to start thinking of things to show him in SJ. Way to weaken my resolve. As if I needed the help. I’m so deeply in like break is going to be painful.

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I think I’m done with The Chemist. As soon as things started rolling with Leone (Mid November, maybe), I haven’t had any interest in blowing him. I feel bad for him, but we were never exclusive. Even if my thing with Leone “flops”, I think I want out of things with The Chemist.

I really dont want to write about The Chemist anymore, so even though I have things to say I’m not going to waste any more energy, except that today he told me I give the best blowjobs he’s ever had. And he’s been with a lot of girls.

That’s all.

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:

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Remember the “Do it”?

Remember how it I was being annoyingly cryptic about it?

Well, I’m ready to spill now. And it’s not happy.

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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.

We were having a post-blowjob chat of the “so as to not make this a wham-bam-thank-you-slam, we’re engaging in small talk but let’s face it, this is awkward” variety (or at least, that’s how I saw it. He’s the one that wanted to catch up, so maybe it felt more natural for him).

He said, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I hooked up with another girl last Friday.”

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Alcohol and I made up last night, after a stormy period I was beginning to fear we’d never get over. I’m also beginning to suspect that it’s not the alcohol itself that makes my stomach want to empty itself through the wrong exit (pardon the tactlessness), but the relative tastiness of it (or should I say “grossness”?). I was going to start typing about which alcohols I like and which I dont, and then I reminded myself that I’m getting off topic (Short list, because I can’t resist. Like: Captain Morgan, JD. Dislike: Bacardi Gold, most light alcohols.) (Note to self: try Sailor Jerry’s).  I wish the topic I’m supposed to talk about hadn’t been rehashed then hashed again, and then hashed once more. I could talk about how I’m so tired of talking about this subject, but that would be getting off topic too.

Let’s start over.

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Case one: He texts me.
Why it would suck: I dont like him. So I end up “hanging out” with a guy I dont even like.

Case two: He doesn’t text me.
Why it would suck: It boosts my ego when he wants me, so when he doesn’t text me, even though the logical part of me tries not to overanalyze, the part of me that is human wonders why I’m not irresistible.

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“I’m surprised you dont have a boyfriend,” he told me as I lay on his bed with him half on top of me, the wall on my left and his body on my right blocking my escape. I was trapped—he was stronger than me and had resisted all of my many attempts to get loose—and to top it off I couldn’t even get to my bra because he’d grabbed it and thrown it across the room when I’d tried to put it back on earlier.

“What? Now?”

“No, I mean was suprised you didn’t have a boyfriend when I met you.”

I said something about not having met the right person yet, but what kind of flimsy excuse is that? Especially to myself, because I think that unless you’re ready to start dating seriously and/or get married (and I’m not, God I’m not) it doesn’t matter if the person is right or not, because that’s what you’ve set off to find out. And part of me is thinking “Wow, thanks, what a compliment!” (in a non-sarcastic way; apologies if it sounds tongue-in-cheek) and the other part of me is thinking  “So how does my life even make sense?” Because it put me in mind of what Buttercup said to me recently: “I honestly think you could get any guy you wanted.”

So what’s wrong? Because if I’m going to believe The Chemist and Buttercup then it’s not me, but it’s not like there’s a lack of hot datable guys here. Nvm, I know what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m not meeting them, and I dont wanna talk about it anymore, so I’m going to shut up now.