I am ready, I am ready for the floor

So, the rule of threes has now been passed with the Beast. I'd been slightly worried about it due to my track record, but it has come and gone without any extra emotional crap being put on the table. It's quite possible that we've actually digressed back to that point before bringing emotional crap into whatever good we have going. I think I may have at least come up for a reason as to why the rule of threes hasn't become a problem yet. I think it's because I separate the Beast as a lover from the Beast as one of my best friends. But that's the beauty in all this! He's a lover in the comfort of his bed...or the floor....or the couch. And then, other times, we can talk and carry on real conversations about anything and everything. Quite literally he is a friend with benefits. I've had that loosely with others, but never quite fitting the definition of "friend". It's a nice change that I really really like, and it makes compartmentalizing my life so much easier.

After a little conversation that happened yesterday with someone, I realized how much guys emphasize wanting a girl to look good all the time. See, I'm going to a w

edding this weekend, so I'm going through the prepping process of getting my nails done, pedicure, waxing, etc. I've had fake nails on maybe 3 other times before this. I hate them. I always end up ripping them off or cutting them down. Pedicures, yea, I love them, but I'd rather just paint my own toenails unless I'm having a particular shitty week and need to make myself feel pretty. Waxing, I used to do all the time but then reintroduced myself to tweezers so I haven't in a while. I rarely ever wear makeup...it's reserved for photoshoots and the occasional night out. I don't wear makeup most nights that I go out though. I did some thinking after this conversation and it really hit me just how much I hate when it's expected that I'm dolled up. See, I don't like when people expect things of me in their terms. I like when

people know me and expect me to be a certain or do something because they know that's how I am. I'm not someone who dolls up more than maybe once a month. It is exhausting to me mentally and physically. I doll up because I want to doll up, not because someone wants me to. And so I'm constantly annoyed by this expectation of "looking hot today?" because no. I'm not. Right now, I'm in what I'd normally wear for being me and doing my own thing...work out shorts and a tshirt. I live in jeans and tshirts. I have to dress nicely 32 hours a week for work. What the fuck makes you think that I want to dress nicely outside of work? That's not me. If someone doesn't want me for me, then fuck it. I don't have time or energy for other people's unrealistic expectations of me anyway.

What I think bothers me is that I've been consistently put up on this pedestal and for what? Something I'm not. Something I never have been. Something I never will be. Some ideal of how someone else thinks I ought to be. That ain't me babe. If you want me to be someone that I'm not, then you're in for a big wake up call because it isn't going to happen. I won't play the role of someone I'm not for anyone. It is exhausting, mentally, physically, emotionally. It adds to whatever depressiveness I have. He claims he want to be my friends and wants me to tell him things but how can I when he doesn't understand who I am.

This is me. This isn't an act. It never has been, it never will be. Don't like me? Fuck off.

Once Upon A Time...

Once Upon A Time, there was a desperate girl who hadn't gotten laid for months and had no physical attention whatsoever from anything other than her plethora of toys, which really hardly counts since there's no cuddling or "you're gorgeous" after the fact. So one night, this girl and her bff met a photographer after a meeting with a different photographer. This second photographer they met that evening was cocky, arrogant, overweight, and rather obnoxious and immature. Yet, the girl decided that out of boredum, she would shoot with him anyway the next night. So, the girl drives alllllllllll the way the fuck out there and they hang out and shoot. The girl can tell he's crushing on her, but she plays her normal teasing role as model, then leaves. Out of boredum several nights later, she finds herself hanging out at his house learning how to photoshop and discussing shoot ideas. And then watching a movie. And then cuddling. And then making out. A week or so goes by, and by this time, the girl has fallen into some sort of delusional state of mind and is spending the night at his house and messing around with him, partially out of boredum, partially out of loneliness. At some point, guy asks her if she'd be his girlfriend, and stupidly, the girl agrees. A month goes by and the guy has to move out of state. Bummer.

So, he moves. Still stuck in the delusional state of mind, the girl becomes obsessed with making it work. Nightly phone calls, airplane tickets, etc. This goes on for about 2 months before girl gets restless, annoyed, and starts to realize how delusional she's been. So, she starts her normal routine of turning into bitch and asking for things that most people wouldn't consider ok...open relationship, fewer phone calls, criticizing everything about him, etc. Finally, on her dollar, he comes to Florida in attempt to fix things even though she knows it cannot and will not be done. They fight for several days and finally, the girl kicks him out and leaves him on the side of the street to figure out his own way home. Boy gets maaaaaad. Girl giggles. Boy constantly text messages girl calling her names. Girl texts back without calling names, but instead pushing all the buttons that she knows gets him more mad at her. Boy leaves Florida several days later. Girl is happy. Boy won't leave girl alone. Boy gets mad because girl slept with other people while they were in open relationship (*gasp!*). Boy threatens to hunt down girl and kill her. Girl blocks boy from her phone, her myspace, her facebook, and every other social networking site humanly possible. Months go by. A year goes by.

Boy messages girl from a new account he has apparently created. Asks girl if she still hates him. Girl laughs and thinks to herself "hate you? that would require spending energy thinking about you." and decides that rather than ignore this message like she's done alllll the other ones like this, she'll respond. "To hate you would require that I think of you. Which I don't, and haven't. Until now. And it'd be super fantastic if you'd continue letting me forget about your existence. Thanks." Boy responds with "well, maybe someday". Girl doesn't respond. Instead she almost falls out of chair laughing because there is no way in hell guy will ever mature enough to be friends with girl, nor will girl ever go down that path of drama ever again.

And the girl, without the boy in her life, will live happily ever after.

The End.

It's Friday night and I ain't got nobody so what's the point of making my bed

You know what I hate? Confusion. The past week has been a clusterfuck of emotional confusion and quite frankly, it was really annoying. And now? The past 24 hours of my life? Even more confused, which in turns means even more annoying. Where do I start??

The travel agent is back in town. I was really looking forward to seeing him when he got back and then. well. That got shot to shit. We made plans to hang out the Sunday after he got back and I didn't hear from him until late afternoon. I got the impression that he wasn't really interested because of it, so I decided to just lay off and not bother pursuing him. Yea, I was disappointed but I don't have the time or effort for such things. So then he posted a few comments on my facebook, so I texted him asking him if he was feeling better. He was. Decided that I wanted to figure him out, so I invited him to Disney with me. I figured it would be a basically no pressure day where we could hang out as friends and I could feel him out a bit more. I texted him on Tuesday about it...I heard back from him Thursday. Ok. Who the hell waits more than 24 hours to respond to a text message?! ugh.

So. Today. One of my girl friends came along today, as well as a photographer friend of mine who got us into Disney free. The travel agent and I pick up my female friend, and she instantly asks how we met. Well, I just giggled and awkwardly said we were friends, knowing that he felt weird about us meeting on a dating site. I looked in my rearview mirror at him and as my friend asked again how we met, he instantly says "sky diving". I'm hoping that if asked again by anyone, he'll come up with something else. Anyway, the whole day, it was friend card between us. I really liked it, but at the same time, my mind kept drifting back to his lips and hands...that phone call after we first met...I'm lost in confusion. What are we? Where the hell do I stand? What the fuck was with his comment about "I thought I was coming over to hang out as friends" minutes after his arms were wrapped around me and his lips on my neck? I hate confusion. I hate not knowing where I stand with someone. He's adorable. He's fun. He's as extrovertedly introverted as me. He has good music taste. I like him. Not hearing from him Sunday was a turn off though. And then him not texting me back for two days was another. But I like him despite that. But I need/want to know where I stand. I'm horrible about asking about such things. I want to know what I am to him. Friend? Lover? Friend with benefit? What? bleh. :/

Thursday night I stayed the night at the Gay Boyfriend and the Beast's apartment. I got there before the Gay boyfriend got home from work, and the Beast gave me a back massage. It was nice. And then it turned into messing around. He spent at least an hour going down on me and upon his coming up for air, I asked why he rarely wants me to reciprocate. Apparently watching me and enjoying me is fun. I don't really know what that means about getting off, or the lack there of on his side. I feel bad. He is so great at getting me off and has actually stopped me from going down on him. I don't quite get it. I love that he enjoys getting me off...dear whatever divinity I love it. But... I like to reciprocate. He knew I was spending time with the Travel Agent since he heard the Gay boyfriend and I discussing it later on in the evening, and so he purposefully tried to leave marks on me. He failed. No bruising on my ass. No bite marks on my thighs. tsk tsk.

I'm exhausted. I think it's time I fall asleep. Sex and the City marathon on TBS til I pass out.

numbers

I don't know why I recently noticed it, but I've noticed how many people in my life have this weird obsession with numbers in various capacities. Time. Number of orgasms. Number of drinks. Number of lovers. Money. Number of shoes. Number of times I've seen someone. Numbers numbers numbers. I don't get it. Or maybe I do.

In 2009 I stopped wearing a wrist watch. I spent a lot of time looking at what time it was. I was always rushing, always worried about how much time was left. Time time time. One day, shortly after a friend of mine committed suicide, I took off my watch, declaring that it slowed me down and that I didn't have the time for it. I haven't put it on since except for a photoshoot. I've stopped obsessing with time. People don't realize just how important exactly time is in our lives. Time is very important to me, and it fascinates me. I'm chronically early to everything despite my lack of a wrist watch. It takes effort for me to be late. I'm irritated by those who don't pay attention to time. It isn't even that my life is run by a schedule except for my work and school schedule. Everything else is up in the air most of the time. Time. Just another set of numbers, but it dictates so much of our lives. Why?

Numbers people annoy me I think. Life isn't about numbers. I don't count numbers of blinks I take or people I've kissed. I don't count orgasms. I have a list of lovers, and therefore I know that number, but I've stopped caring. Why the obsession with numbers? Half of what people want to measure with a number can't be truly be measured by numbers. A conversation came up recently with a friend of mine about orgasms. He wanted to know how many I had. I didn't know. What he said he really wanted to know was if I enjoyed myself. Of course I enjoyed myself. I could have one orgasm and the sex still be amazing. I could have too many to even try to count and the sex still be amazing.

Numbers are for mathematicians and accountants. I've dated one of each so far in 2010. And neither have ever brought up numbers to me. I think they understand numbers better than most, and not in the literal mathematical since of understanding numbers, but in the lack of importance of them in most situations. Time and money are the only points in which numbers matter, and money is only marginal. They say money doesn't matter to the people who have money. Money doesn't matter to me and I don't have much. So that leaves one thing left. Time. Only numbers that matter to me anymore. And really? That's because I only have so much of it left.

someday you will find caught beneath the landslide

Yesterday I went to the nudist resort. I try to go as often as I can. I love getting away from the pressures of people. I spend the day ignoring phone calls and text messages, laying pool side with a cocktail or beer in hand, or in the pool socializing with people who have been introduced to me through the photographer and his wife who I know there. A model and I got there at about 10:30, and immediately the photographer's wife hands us cocktails. Yea. Day can't go wrong when it starts off with naked cocktails. We spent about 2 hours total shooting, and then went to lunch at the resort's cafe/bar. After all this, we all went in the pool and socialized and did a bit of networking. At some point, I got out of the pool to lay out and read. I fell asleep, as I often do when out in the sun and relaxing. I wake up however long later, and this guy who had been eyeing me in the pool earlier calls my name. um. ok....

So, I go into the pool and he immediately sits next to me on th

e seat/bench thing in the pool, and puts his arm around me. Um. No. I don't know this guy's name but immediately I can tell that this isn't going to be good. He spent the next 5 minutes informing me of some story about why he isn't friends with one of the girls I was talking to earlier, and basically the underlying meaning of his story is that he's ridiculously clingy and can't take no for an answer. UGH. Seriously, this guy would not stop talking. Let me get this straight to you guys. I go to the nudist resort to be treated like a human being, not an object of someone's wet dreams later. And until yesterday, that's how I've always been treated. People are friendly and respectful and they mind that personal bubble su

rrounding you. But no. Not this guy. He was all up on me. Now, don't get me wrong, I love people and I love my friends, but if you're a complete fucking stranger, I don't want to know your life story. Don't care. I'm probably one of the friendliest, most caring people you will ever meet. I care so much that I get walked all over. But dude. Leave me the fuck alone with your life story, and don't ask so many questions that I don't actually have time to answer. And don't answer your questions for me. Yea. that isn't cool. Anyway. He asked me why I go to the resort, I told him it's to get away from people and relax. He asked me personal questions that were none of his goddamn business. He was like a desperate puppy. I don't like desperate puppies. Desperation is not sexy.

I don't get that about guys. I'm obviously telling you that I'm not interested, and yet they pester and pester. Do guys really think that's the way to get a girl? I want to be friends with someone before being a lover (ok, maybe sometimes I don't want to be friends with my lovers. shut up.) or in a relationship. But to be my friend, it's a give and take. You can't speak for me unless you happen to have a matching tattoo on your hip and have known me for over a decade. You can't pester me with questions and then not give me a chance to answer for myself. Don't assume things about me. I hate that. Assumptions don't make an ass out of you and I, they just make an ass out of you. For all I know, this guy is one of the pathetic losers who follows me on facebook and really does worship the ground I walk on. I don't know. But regardless, no. just plain fucking no.

Anyhow. I've avoided having private time with the Beast since he came over one night and we smoked up then proceeded to have pool sex. Pool sex is definitely overrated. It was my first time but, I have to admit, the body high I had made it waaaay better than it would have been. That was a week ago now. I've seen him twice since and frankly...I've avoided getting drunk so I could drive home so that I wouldn't sleep with him again. I fucking hate emotions. Emotions fuck with me way too much. I can't do this. I can't. And so damnit. I'm not going to. If I can't just sleep in bed with someone then I'm not going to. What's so hard about that? I've done that with him and countless other people. Bleh. Emotions and I do not get along.

well, that didn't work out too well...

Self restraint is not a talent I possess. Seriously. I suck at it. Which is how I ended up sexing the Beast last night. It was... well. Let me start at the beginning. I was at his and the gay boyfriend's apartment last night watching movies (btw, for those of you who are squirmish like me, don't watch the Human Centipede. Yea. Just...Don't. we didn't even get that far into it and I just couldn't do it) and hanging out, and I was too intoxicated to drive and so asked the Beast if he minded if I slept in his bed. Now, we've shared a bed without messing around before and I was pretty determined to stick to my decision. Until he woke me up... and even then, I kept asking if we were supposed to be doing that and having some sort of moral dilemma thinking that we shouldn't be messing around since we agreed to, ya know, quit. Anyway. It ended pleasurably but I still feel like it probably shouldn't have happened. I like him. I trust him. But, I told him that we needed to stop because of the possibility of drama...and part of that was the possibility of me being hurt. I don't know how he got to being in my head like that, but he's there. Messing around...err, sexing, isn't going to make that any better for me. I'm perfectly content laughing and talking with him. I love those moments in fact. But... the line is going to get really blurry for me really soon if this happens again. I can't take having a blurry line right now. We've slept in the same bed without messing around before...why can't that continue?!

Anyway. South FL was... *giggle* really fun. That's going to be saved for a Confessions video on my clips4sale store. Yea.