The Blues and Tattoos

I didn't think that having a new roommate would hit me this hard, I at least didn't think I would cry until I saw the room or something.  The new girl seems nice, it just makes Rachel's passing away a very final reality.  It doesn't help that there is nothing I can do about it.

Also, everyone is talking about getting a tattoo in memory of Rae, and I like that idea in theory.  I've never gotten a tattoo before, and it's not because I don't like them, it's because they're permanent.  If I'm going to have to look at it forever, I better like it forever.  I just need time to process and think about it.  Like three years kind of time.
I'm slow, don't act surprised.
I just want to be sure of what I want, it won't magic eraser off my body if I change my mind last minute.

Irony and I

My last post was about how I apply the five stages of grief to my love life, it was very self involved - like most of the things I talk about.

Last Sunday, the 21st, my roommate/best friend passed away in a car accident.  I went to her funeral yesterday, spoke, and made her memory boards.

I'm okay now, but I don't quite know what to say about it.  It's something that has affected all of my friends, and that will continue to affect us.  I wish I'd done and said things differently, I re-thought some of my actions.  I now have to deal with actual grief.
Sometimes it hasn't hit me, and then something small, like getting ready for my friends birthday party, will make me think of her.  She'll never get ready for a party with me again, something we did about 100 times last school year.

I'm not in the mood to be sappy and drawn out, in fact this has left me very short tempered and dissatisfied about regular things in my life.  I just felt like I owe her, and myself, some perspective on life.  There are real things to grieve over.

Rachel and I, during a night out.

The Five Stages of Grief & How I Handle Love

If I had a whole list of things about the reasons I'm a fucked up person, "love makes me sad" would probably be number 7 or 8.  And "Being Naggy" would be 13, but that's a different story.

When it comes to love in real life, I basically go through the five stages of grieving.

1) Denial.  I don't love this guy, I haven't been with him long enough to love him.  I still think other guys are cute sometimes.  What is love anyway?  Maybe I love him, but I'm not in love with him, there's a difference right?

2) Anger.  How dare I love someone?  It's not like this is going to amount to anything!  How dare he be so nice that I fall in love?  This is stupid!  I'm stupid!  

3) Bargaining.  Maybe if distance myself from him I won't love him anymore.  I won't text back as fast, we won't hang out as often, I won't wear the bracelet he got me and I won't love him this much and it'll all be fine.  Maybe by doing all of these things he'll think I'm crazy and distance himself from me!  Then I really won't love him this much, genius!

4) Depression.  If I tell him I love him things will be too serious, and then they won't work out.  He's going to break my heart, and worse, I deserve it for being such a dumbass and falling for him.  I don't deserve love, there's no way he'll love me back, this is going to end badly. [insert countless versions of a break up scene.]

5) Acceptance.  I've been told it's nice at this stage, I wouldn't know. [insert more of stage 4 depression.]

Since I was 15 I've always thought I was too weird, too ugly, and too overlooked to ever make someone happy.  For the past 5 years that line of thought has proven to be true.  It's what I've told myself after every breakup or version of "heartbreak" that I've come across in my life.  When someone leaves me, it's always because I'm lacking in some way.  I've talked about this a lot in my blog, I know I have, and hopefully I'm not beating people over the head with it.  It's just such a destructive line of thought and I know that it affects me in every relationship I have.

In my current relationship my boyfriend puts in effort to better himself for me (haircut, cutting back a bit on cigarettes, etc), he gets jealous of other guys, and laughs at my jokes.  He'll even stay up for over 24 hours to spend time with me (he works night shift, makes for weird hangout and sleeping hours). He tells me I'm beautiful every day, he says how lucky he is to have me every chance he gets, and I literally catch him gazing at me.

When he does or says these things, I get very quiet and reserved and he always asks me what's wrong.  I don't know how to tell him that I'm scared sick of how breaking up or him not putting in as much effort will affect me.  That I don't feel like I deserve these things.  I'm not good enough for this.  I feel like a fraud, accepting gifts that belong to some other girl.  Some other girl that he will eventually find and leave me for.  I really don't know how to say it without sounding pathetic or ungrateful or without making him mad at how much I dislike myself.  I mean, if I don't like "me," how can anyone else?

Where I'm Going vs. Where I've Been

So I was browsing through my blog and I came across one of my pity party "woe is me" posts about the last guy I was with.  I'm sure my blog is filled with them, but this is just the first one I laid eyes on.
I emphasized a lot about how I was immature and how I wasn't done exploring new things.  The only thing I rested on his shoulders was that he didn't put in enough effort.

I'm with a guy now, who blows that last one out of the water.  It's a testament to how I've been treated in the past, let me tell you.  He won't let me pay for anything, ever (it's a little frustrating sometimes), he's literally become good friends with my parents, he's met my friends, he works night shift but will stay up for over 24 hours to see me, he'll drive an hour to my house just to see me for 30 minutes before he goes to work, he's willing to visit me at school as much as I want, he listens when I say "no," he texts me good morning and good night.  And the biggest thing he did that no guy has ever done for me before?  Asks me and makes sure that I get off during sex.  He takes it as a personal defeat if I don't, it's really quite cute.

That whole paragraph is full of things that he does, that no one else has ever bothered or even attempted to do.  I'm sure I'm even missing a few things!  This whole situation actually makes me angry that I've never expected more out of a guy than for him to like me.  In the past I've gotten a few dinners, a movie date here or there, but no real chivalry.  And certainly no one who gave a shit about how I felt in bed.

XOXO

I have so much to write about, I've been staring at my laptop screen for at least 10 minutes, typing and then erasing what I want to say.  My life gets so busy that things just get all jumbled up in my head.

I could go off the boyfriend topic again, lord knows I have enough material in that area.  I could rant about how I have to take $5,528 in loans because I didn't get any new scholarships, despite my 3.8 GPA.  I could also give you the DL on how to be a very bad almost-employee - clue: it's waiting to call back an interested employer for an entire week.

However, it's sunny outside and my friends want to take me swimming so we can gossip about sex and how much we love food but also being skinny.  I'll have to give you a titillating post later, since they've been far and few between lately, I'll try to make it a really good one.

xoxo 

The Best Bullshitter On This Side Of The East Coast

Well, I promised a boyfriend story, but now gentle viewers I think I have to break that promise.  When I first started seeing *Rick I was in a state of disbelief and confusion.  How had this situation come about?  What was I going to do about it?  Will this panic go away?
Well the panic has faded and a love haze has once again clouded my eyes.  Fuck doesn't even cover the "oh shit" feeling I have about that.

So I don't even want to talk about how it all came out.  I mean, long story short I met him at a bonfire, he was interested in me (I didn't think much of it), he perused me for a few weeks, we kissed, I stopped being a bitch.
Now he does things like dive an hour out of his way to come and see me, he won't let me pay for anything, and the sex is fantastic, and let's be honest, I deserved some great sex after the great fiasco of the Oreo Ice Pack.  He says things like, "you know you're a 10 dating a 6, right?" and he never stops complimenting me.
I legitimately don't know what to do with shit like that.  Ignore me, I'm up for the challenge.  Be mean to me, I can take it.  But be nice to me?  I just give him confused looks all the time.  The ability to graciously accept compliments isn't something I know how to do.  In fact, any suggestions will damn well be welcome.

Now I can't tell if I'm dating the best bullshitter on this side of the East Coast, or if this guy is genuine and safe to believe.  I had no idea my faith in men had fallen so far off the radar, yet here I am, blithely nodding my head to whatever he says while saying "bullshitbullshitbullshit" in my head.  I don't have time to fall down the rabbit hole this time, I need to keep my head on.
Then I have the part that says if this guy is being real right now, I'm missing out on some really great memories and kind words.  Who knows when I'll find someone who treats me like this again?

This is just what my head has been spending all of it's free time thinking about, thought I would share it with the world.  I'm sure more exciting things have happened, but you know me.  A guy walks into my life and I drop everything else like it's about to infect me with Ebola.  Good times.

A picture of our cuteness because a sick part of me just can't resist.

The Adjustment Period

Holy shit, I leave for a month and it feels like a year.  I didn't post anything because I've been busy adjusting myself from dorm life to home life - and what an adjustment it's been.
A curfew again, my mom is sticking her nose in my business, and I've gone from a roommate to a sister.  Let's just say I'm still getting used to it all.
When I was at school I missed the warmth and love in homemade cooking.  Now that I'm home, I find I miss the steadiness of an actual meal at meal time.  Oh well, you can't have everything.

I also have a boyfriend now, and just wait until I actually have the patience to sit down and write about this whole shenanigan.  It's quite the whirlwind romance, and if you actually read my blog then you know that I have NO BUSINESS being anyone's girlfriend.  It's a miracle I haven't killed him, or myself, with awkwardness and bad puns yet.  It's even more of a miracle that he likes me enough to want to date me and not just fuck.  Because, you know, I have such low expectations and all.
Anyways,
hold on to your keyboards children, summer's just begun.

Stupid Things I Do When I'm Drunk

I have a love-hate relationship with drunk me.  She's fun, she's free, she doesn't give a shit.  It's all the parts of me that I suppress during the day.  But I guess I keep those parts too cooped up because when I let loose I really let loose.  So in order to purge myself as well to serve as a reminder, here's a list of stupid things I did last night.
1. Yelled a lot during pong.  I hate those girls that can't shut up, but I was one of them last night.
2. Didn't make a single pong cup.  Although sometimes I do that when I'm sober too, haha.
3. Smoked a cigar.
4. Talked about my sex life.
5. Repeated myself.
6. Dropped my laptop.
7. Grabbed a guy's dick (He was in his boxers and he's so tall it was almost eye level - this is the second time drunk me has grabbed a dick. Sober me does not take part in this, ever.)
8. Tried very hard to run a naked lap after I got skunked in pong.  I wouldn't do it without my partner, but the level at which I was trying to convince him to go with the flow so I could run down the street in my underwear is beyond embarrassing.  He'll never let me live it down, I'm sure.
9. Said way too much, and said it loud.  Drunk me is always airing out her fucking business.
10. Became determined to be flexible.  I put my leg on my friend's shoulder, or tried to... (my ass went on the floor)  Don't know what I was trying to prove there.

However, there are a few smart things I did!
1. No drunk facebooking.
2. No drunk tweeting.
3. No drunk pictures! They always turn out so awful and some asshole has to post them later.
4. I gave my phone to my sober friend at the end of the night so I couldn't drunk text a guy at the party who I wanted to give a piece of my mind to (the fact that I begged for it back is irrelevant).
5. Ate something when I got back to my room.
6. Didn't slap the shit out of a friend who was trying way to hard to get with me.  I like him as a friend, but apparently he can only handle that when he's sober.

Oops, I Had Sex (and it didn't go well) - A Cautionary Tale

I post enough embarrassing stuff on here that I figured I should just go ahead and share this one too.  I'm honestly disgusted at how much sex/boy talk I've been doing lately.  I swear I have other interests in my life, but I just suppose they just aren't as noteworthy.  And honestly, my sex life is so much funnier than anything else I do.  In fact, it's even a bit of a warning...  Are you ready for my not-sexy sex story?

It would be just my luck to pick out a guy who has a thing for pain in the bedroom.  Bite, scratch, beat, whatever it is, he's into it.  You know what he's not into?  Foreplay.  Or Condoms.

Concerning the first one I just have to say, it's fucking necessary to turn on the sprinklers before you start running around in the front yard hoping for something to happen!  And I haven't had sex in almost 5 months, it should be soooooooo easy for you to do.  No excuses.
By the way, do you know what condoms have on them? lube.
And I'll just go ahead and do a little no-condom rant.  I KNOW. I've been taught since the 6th grade that condoms are great, super important little things that are a necessity.  Especially when having casual sex with someone. I KNOW.  But we didn't and in my defense I asked for one a few times and he just claimed he didn't have one.  You know what he didn't ask?  If he come cum inside of me.  Yeah, that happened.  No permission given, he just went for it.  I was dumbfounded.  Saying "yeah I'm on birth control" was not "woman speak" for disregard condoms and, oh while your at it, put your sperm in me!

So, there was that nonsense.  And I was in pain the whole time, both times.  Strait up pain.  The first time I even asked him to stop, don't finish, just stop.  It's a little my fault, I'm not directive at all.  I don't come with an instructions manual, I just hope that I have a good builder.  One lesson learned from the sexcapade was speak up!  Being quiet will get you nothing!
Or wait, it will get you something...
In my case it was a swollen v a g i n a.  It happens during sex, it's honestly pretty natural (I looked it up).  However, I got home and put an ice pack on my vagina.  For about an hour.  I wish I was kidding.  Thankfully I'm a good sport, because it makes me laugh just to think about it.  I mean, an ice pack shaped like an oreo was in my pants for a good part of my Friday while I was skipping classes because it hurt to walk or wear underwear.  You can't make that shit up, you just have to live it.

Also when I got to my room I realized I'd walk of shamed with a hickey the size of Massachusetts on my shoulder and neck.  Gigantic.  A guy actually asked me if I got hit by/fell on something.  That happened to be the weekend I went home and my amazing dad had the grace to ignore it while I did my best to apply make-up and wear clothes from my small selection of t-shirts (they make me feel like I'm choking so I don't own many).

I waited five months to have sex, and this is what happened to me.  I just...it really does make me smile.  I'm so ridiculous sometimes.

By the way (my little disclaimer), in the guy's defense, it wasn't all bad and he's actually a nice person.  The good stuff just isn't as interesting or funny as the bad, so I won't bore you with it, haha.

An Apology (and explanation) Letter To My Future Husband (should I ever get one)

Hello my beautiful blog!  I've been hiding from you.  Yes, hiding...because of that last post, the one that I STILL can't read but refuse to delete.  It reeks of how low and pathetic I was and can be; plus I pretty much cried the whole time I wrote it.  It was an emotional breakdown that I'll admit I'm still not dealing with.  It's all basically "la-la-la-la-la-plug-my-ears-and-move-on."
Big surprise that it's not working well for me.

Here's Example A of how well things are going:
I meet Joe Schmo at a frat party.  He's pretty cute, tall, awkward, and one-hundred and twenty percent into me.  We talk, we badly dance, I give him a chaste kiss and my phone number (lalalalalalalalalalalala).
Then we hung out the next day...for six hours.  We strolled around campus, looked at a few sights, held hands.  It was all very cheesy and 1950's.  I took him to one of my good friend's house, mistake #249,904.  The awkwardness clung to the air around me, I felt so forced into even the simple intimacy of sitting next to him. Finally I couldn't take it any more.  I asked the poor kid to leave.
Have you ever had to do that?  Is there a polite way to ask someone to get the fuck out before you use your North Face to hang yourself from the ceiling fan?  Personally I couldn't think of one and I was in panic mode.
I think I did an okay job though, by saying, "I'd really like to just hang out with my friends now." then I kissed him and said "can that be a goodnight kiss?" (damn smooth for panic mode, am I right?)
And I have not talked to him since.  If the guilt is killing me, then the anger I feel at myself for being such a complicated bitch has already bought my headstone.
I realized just how much I do not, repeat DO NOT, want a relationship.  I don't want to share my friends or my time with anyone else.  I can't be bothered by the strange "I like you," and "I like you too" but "how much?" parts of a budding relationshit relationship.  Yet I threw away the friends-with-benefits part of my life because I fell in love with the guy and wanted more.  But I don't want more?  You see, I put a question mark there because I'm really not fucking sure.

So yeah, I'm not really okay.  But I am.  Like, I'm functional and happy, just occasionally confused.  Also, I'm on the brink of making stupid decisions, like texting the guy I'm still in love with for his birthday so when I'm out for the summer we can have lunch and catch up.  I keep asking people whether they think it's a good idea or not, and they all say the same thing.  I'm not sure why I keep asking, I know what I 'm going to end up doing.
And so continues the denial train, choo-choo-motherfucker!