Throwing in the Towel Before I Ever Shed Another Tear

So, I am going to blog about this once. I am going to talk about this once. I am going to address this issue and resolve any misunderstandings regarding it once. It is not a big deal, it's not something I want plastered across a t-shirt. I don't want to have to explain it all the time or reenforce it every day.

Yes, I am officially completely done with men. And I mean it. I am done with them in every way possible--no more sex, no more dating, no more crushing and flirting, no more relationships! I know that no one is going to take me seriously until I've turned down a few guys or not gone out and slept with one of my favorite boys, but I really am very serious about this. And I have some very solid reasons. (And they are not all related to the recent indescretions on the part of a friend or the shame caused to me by the last boy who caught my eye.)

#1: No relationship has yet proven worth the pain, embarassment or anger that they all have caused me. At the end of everything, all you have left to show for all your primping and perfuming and compromising and sacrafice is one more person you hide from when you see them in Wal-Mart and razor rash on your va-jay-jay. Why keep subjecting myself to all this torture and inconvinience when I already know, from the moment I lay eyes on that cute boy or give him my phone number, what the outcome will be? How many times have I hoped for matrimony and ended up stress eating myself into a new size pants instead?

#2: Sex is too much work! By the time I get done shaving my ridiculously long, cumbersome legs, braiding my arm pit hair (just kidding, really), powdering, spritzing, fluffing, combing and tweezing, I'm too tired for sex! And why should I spend all that time getting ready for some dude (who, by the way, thinks he's doin' good if he remembers to smear on some Old Spice before he rolls me around on his mismatched sheets for exactly three and a half minutes) when my vibrator does a better job, doesn't care if I haven't shaved my legs in years and never talks back?! Oh, and I never get the sneaking suspicion that my vibrator is comparing my boobs to anyone elses or wishing I was thinner.

#3: I have other better, more important things to do. Really. My son, my education, my career and my family should always be more important than anybody sportin' a scrotum. My mom is putting me through college and supporting me pretty much 100%; my son is delightful and funny and growing up more every day; my education deserves my attention and dedication; and my job is a source of pride for me, so I'd like to hang on to it. When I look back on all of my relationships, I don't see anything that any of those guys have ever done for me that could even begin to compare to the love and support and care I get from my family and friends and the opportunities afforded to me by my job and education. The most I've ever gotten from a guy is a negative result for herpes (but believe me, I was thankful), and I can most definitely give that to myself just by sitting at home playing legos and memorizing the periodic table.

#4: I know myself and I really do have an astounding lack of self control. I know that when I'm dating or sleeping with someone, I let the other areas of my life go neglected and unattended to. I blow off school and I spend less and less time with Payton and I become more and more excessive and obsessed and addicted. I have known these things about myself for a while, and it's time that I start using the pattern to fashion a model. I know that I am not a responsible, productive, healthy person when I'm dating or having sex, therefore I know that in order for my life to be balanced and normal, I need to avoid these situations. Makes sense, eh?

#5: I am just SICK of crying and being embarassed and getting angry and feeling bad about myself because of one stupid guy or another. They are all the same and I am better than that! It feels awful to develop feelings for someone and think about them all the time and spend time with them and start the process of getting comfortable around them, just to have it all fall apart in your hands, in front of everyone, over something stupid and pointless. And the only way for sure to avoid that feeling is to steer clear of boys!

#6: I have been saying for a long time that you can't trust anyone, but I haven't been living my life according to that rule. I've just tripped right out of one relationship and into another, having my misplaced trust betrayed and my feelings hurt. This is what we call a pre-game plan! I just fell out of one stupid involvement with a stupid, stupid guy and instead of sitting around waiting on the next doofust to come along and make it that much worse, I'm going to actively avoid men.

So, wish me luck. No more sex. No more boys. No more dates. No more relationships. I am done.

Frustration

So, I quit smoking. I don't know if I really was that addicted, or if fate hates me and waits till I try to kick the habit to dump random life shit on me, but all I know is that I am having a terrible time today. I kind of quit thursday night (I say kind of because Saturday night, I smoked three, which is an improvement over my usual, with Ashley) and I've done okay, but I really am struggling today.

Reasons I Want to Chain Smoke Filterless Camels Today:

1) I just lost a friend and a boy that I actually really like. Apparently, girls, it's okay for your friend to invite a guy you just started dating to her house for a party even though she knows you can't go and won't be there. And it's okay for him to accept this invitation. Oh, no, wait, I got that all backwards, you're right, it's not okay! I don't know if I am the only person on the face of the planet who would be uncomfortable and slightly pissed about this situation, but that's how the two of them (yes, they are behaving similiarly now...I wonder...) are acting, like I have no right to be mad. I'm sorry....but what reason in the world would someone have to invite a complete stranger who just happens to be dating one of their friends to their house knowing that they will be all sloppy drunk and making sexual overtures at random people? They don't even know each other...argh! It was bad enough that she ran her mouth about stuff she had no business talking about in the first place, but I just found out today that she gave him explicit directions to her house (and probably her panties...skank) and he followed those explicit directions and made an appearance (fuckwad). I don't care if all they did was talk about foriegn policy, that is never acceptable!

2) The people I work with are unfriendly and rude. Someone at another bank I was training at actually told me before I started at this bank that the people here were some of the most unfriendly she had ever worked with, but I dismissed that because I understand that everyone has different social needs and preferances and everyone has their own opinion. I came to this job hoping to make some new friends and get to know everyone here. Apparently, I did something wrong the first day I set foot in the door because ever since then, I have been getting the cold shoulder. I'm talking about people who won't even speak to me unless forced by professional protocol (and, at our bank, they stretch that pretty far). I used to come in every day and say hello to everyone and try to be helpful and cheerful, but their foul moods have rubbed off on me like old charcoal. I am sick of kissing ass and doing the please-like-me dance. These people have no reason not to like me! I have done nothing to deserve this silent treatment and honestly, they all just make themselves out to be little immature bitches when they stick their noses up and talk to everyone but me. I am a perfectly nice, normal person and I try very hard to mind my own business and just do my job and be respectful, I do not deserve this. And, the funny thing is, when I don't talk to them, that's when people actually start to notice anything about me at all. Um, so are we rewarding negative behavior now? Honestly, where is professionalism anymore? I have never worked anywhere like this. You would think that a bank would be more professional than the kitchen at a nursing home, but at least at the nursing home, we all tried to figure out ways to work with each other and put our differences aside. We were at least fucking polite. I can't stand this anymore. Everyone is all stuck up each others asses and I'm sick of it. I'm standing on the outside and I'm starting to realize that they are all just miserable people who would rather make someone else feel bad or left out than take some time to get over themselves and get to know someone else. (And just so you know, no, I don't mean everyone at the bank. There are a few down to earth, sweet girls who treat me like everyone else. A few means three--Meghan, Carmen and Ashley.)

3) I am about to start my period. Now, don't think that makes the first two complaints insignificant. I might be hormonal, but I am still sensible and I know when something hurts and when something is wrong. My reaction might be slightly different than it would have been two weeks ago, but the sentiments are the same. I really think I need to start taking some hormone pills or try some new birth control, because I cannot stand the way I feel right before I start. I am edgy and irritable and snappy as hell. I cry about nothing and I develop all these weird paranoias. (No, this does NOT apply to the first reason. I am not paranoid. It doesn't matter to me if they fucked on her front porch or not, it wasn't acceptable. I don't think that knowing the nature of bad human beings makes me paranoid. Chances are, if the president of the United States will get his dick sucked by a fat bitch in the Oval Office, your twenty one year old drunkard, hornball friend will fuck the guy you really like at a party. Common sense, right?) The last time I was about to start, I read this story in a magazine about this little boy named Aidan who died when he was two of some rare disease. When I got to the part about his family packing up his toys and taking down his crib, I burst into boiling tears and I literally cried for about three hours. I cried myself out of tears. My mom felt bad at first and then she just got annoyed because I wouldn't stop. And the funny thing is, once I actually start, I'm an angel. I feel all relieved and calm and demure and I flit around blowing kisses and sprinkling money dust on everyone (not really). I think I have PMPS--Premenstraul psychotic syndrome.

4) I need, I want, I HAVE to have sex! Okay, so maybe this is a little bit TMI (I actually don't know what that means anymore as far as my blogs are concerned), but I am insanely frisky (my nice alternative for that oogly h-word). I want a boy...and you know where. I was supposed to have a little date tonight and tomorrow night, but thanks to my loud mouth, inappropriate alcoholic ex-friend, I can scratch that (and it's a sad, sad shame, too, because I have a feeling that boy knows how to throw down...I hate her even more now). It did just occur to me though that if I were to get fucked really good, I would probably want a cigarette. AUGH! Now I miss AJ. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! Seriously, though, there's nothing I love more than falling back on the pillow, sweaty and satisfied, and letting the man responsible for my screaming and moaning light each one of us a cigarette. Then, we smoke and smile and wrap our legs around each other and bask in the afterglow of one outrageously good lay. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. But, I guess since there's no indication that I will be getting laid any time soon, or that if I do, that it will be any good, I don't have to worry about succumbing to the craving for that postcoital cigarette.

Anyway, this is my blog and I will do with it what I please. And what I have done is a beautiful explosion of hatred and anger. Kisses