this got long. and explict. this is me. and i am sorry.

so now when i get online, i have to decide where my ramblings will be posted - general censorship and audience restrictions make it feel like i have multiple personalities sometimes.

anyway, this wins because the name is most fitting.

i've gone and done it again.

as i have been telling chris (we have of late been having long involved emails about the meaning of love and intimacy generally concerning the numbers game and our sex lives or lack there of), i am still (perhaps desperately) clinging to the idea of forever and meaningful and an all round prince charming who gives great head.

but this desire and deep seated belief in the possibility of special and sacred does not incline me to spend the rest of my life waiting for it sexually frustrated and lonely.

here in lies the dilema.

so, in my misguided and unplanned coping scheme, i generally do not foray into socio-physical encounters as i generally feel i can hold out for better and figure something good is on the way. but every once in a while i snap and then for a brief period would shag anything that moves since the rest of my 'self' and moral high ground are overpowered by blood lust and insatiable hormones. it's kind of like that volcano of emotions of puberty. back then i would scream and cry and fall asleep and now i get myself some play, then drop them like a hot potato. neither is recommended if you want to look sane.

this scenario, while not flattering or all together healthy for my reputation or emotional CV, keeps me balanced. cathardic almost.

but so anyway, my point was, unexpectedly, i've gone and done it again.

last night met up with jack and some of his work friends - real guys, who drink beer and have girlfriends and all that. and little irish lee was totally hitting on sonja all night. seriously, they were talking about victiorian literature and i had to interupt a dickensian-austenite debate to buy the next round. well, when she went home i made a point to chat to him, field the territory, feel it out and invite him to my party in one of my matchmaking attempts (the likes of which i have not attempted since probably back when we went to lock-ins and those after school 6th grade non-commital "dance" things).

and i totally pulled a kylie.

drunk little lee forgot all about sonja and tried to feel me up under the table. apparantly i didnt know how amazing my tits look in the top i was wearing and he pretty much lost all sense of decency after another round.

and me being me, i wasn't going to turn down a little play so i let him walk me home (if by walk you mean make out on a park bench and get fingered in an alley).

but me also being me, i made it very clear i wanted nothing from him, i was not going to sleep with him, in all likelihood i would pretend this never happened and was perfectly happy to go our seperate ways and he was allowed to pursue sonja in a gentleman-like fashion and i wouldnt feel put upon or used. in fact i pretty much wasnt interested, but if he was giving handjobs for free i wasnt going to say no.

as i write this i cant help but feel a little dirty - the major downside of this sexual coping technique.

what was i thinking? have i no shame? or worse, no standards? i wasnt even interested and he was totally into sonja. i have no problem apparantly making short work of my reputation and personal boundaries, but when other people are involved it feels like betrayal.

somewhere i blinked and crossed a line and who the fuck have i become?

i still don't hold much stock in the fact i hooked up with a stranger. i never have. maybe a bit embarassed at the public space portion, but like i've never been that before. but i guess i never really considered the implications of all this shit for other people.

he text me three times today. three. is this going to be a thing, because i really didn't want anything. i still dont. i really thought we could just be mates. i am such a man.

and now what kind of weirdness have i made for sonja? if she likes him do i tell her? is it my job? my business? my fault? what was i thinking? i am emotionally retarded to be having 90210 dilemas at my age. why couldnt i have fucked my best friends boyfriend in high school or college like a normal whore and got all this shit out of the way? there should be deadlines for these kinds of mistakes.

or jack for that matter. they are work friends. like he wants his watercooler conversation this morning to be about my lack of decency. like i need him to hear that shit about me from virtual strangers. i don't even know the kid for christ sake, why did it have to be someone who'll share trophy stories at the pub with my best friend? why did it not occur to me this is socially awkward before i copped a feel?

sometimes i really need to think with something other than my box. and sadly, i have no idea how. it's like call of the wild or some shit. i have no self control. its shameless. animalistic. raw. and rude.

is there a drug to make me sane? do i want to give up my fleeting but satisfying encounters to be normal? how many times must i brush with disaster before i realize sometimes people are more important than my libido?

this is what catholic school and an extended and late puberty does to you. enforced asexuality means a decade of overcompensation at least.

yours,
hoplessly whorish