"I want you. I want you so bad."

Every time I meet a guy, I size him up by how well he can take my sarcasm.

The guy I met this weekend took the ridicule well and even gave it right back to me.

I could tell that he was into me within the first five minutes of meeting him.

Fine with me as long as you keep your distance, sir.

He tried to leave later on in the night and would only stay if I admitted that I was attracted to him.

I was convinced that he shouldn't be driving after the games of beer pong he played so I swallowed my pride and told him that yes, I had been flirting back all night.

We walked away from everyone to talk and that's when he started feeding me the lines.

"I just think you're so beautiful... I want to take you out and hold your hand. Is that okay with you?... Can we cuddle tonight? I just want to be around you... Let's listen to Abbey Road remastered at my house tomorrow night..."

Blah blah fuckin' blah.

And we made out a bit.

"You're such a good kisser."

*rolls eyes*

I walked right into it.

He found my dimple while we were sitting by the fire and then "romantically" said, "You're so beautiful."

I hate when men tell me I'm beautiful.

I shouldn't hate this, but my experiences have led me to.

We went back into the house and made out a bit more.

He led me into the basement to make out a bit and confessed that he was erect.

Ya. I could tell.

Then he said, "What? You don't believe me?" and tried to take it out.

I stopped him and started walking back up the stairs. What the fuckkkkkk?

People came in and were talking to us and he started to walk towards the front of the house.

I followed him and he wanted to go back to his house.

I hesitated and he said, "Or we could go to your house."

More of my hesitation in the car led us to talk about spending the night at our own places.

But drunk and lonely Ms. Harding said, "No it's okay. You can come back," knowing damn well what was expected to happen.

I said, "I'm gonna pass out soon."

He said something like, "Not before this," started kissing me within five minutes of walking into my room... and then started to undress himself. I stopped him before he got to his underwear.

We made out some more and before I knew it, it was all over.

He had said all night that he wanted to cuddle with me, but... no cuddling.

Just him telling me to stop rubbing his back because it tickled too much.

I didn't sleep well.

He tossed and turned a lot.

He left around 8am and went home to get ready for work, but not before asking me to text him while he was there.

But now, I'm not speaking to him because he pulled a "Billy" on me and is claiming that I was the one who came on to him.

Billy was a really nice boy I met through a friend about three years ago.

The night we met, he told me I was beautiful and held my hand and wished I wasn't going back to school after spring break. He drove me home the next night from a friends house and we parked. He started kissing me, but stuck his hand down my pants. I had to stop him several times, but even though I stopped him, he still asked me if I wanted to "go further."

I asked him to take me home and called my friend crying about it.

A year passed and I found out that Billy had told my friend that it was ME that asked to "go further" in his car, parked in front of a creepy sump.

So now here's another guy, pulling a "Billy" and making me out to be the manipulative succubus.

That's why I don't like being called, "beautiful."

That's why I'm like this.

"No, he can't read my poker face."

Tonight is proving to be an insomniac night, so I've been up doing a little, quick Google research on neurotransmitters, pheromones & sex.

Most of the articles I'm finding just perpetuate the stereotype of women getting emotionally attached to males. And the articles I've come across are all about heterosexual intercourse, which I won't even begin to address. I'll bite my tongue for now.

I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of articles on men wanting to cuddle after sex.

In my experience, it's the males that initiate all of the pillow-talk and snuggling.

Why are all of these articles about, "why men don't cuddle after sex?"

My real-life research proves the majority of the googled research* wrong.

Obviously, some men find sex intimate enough to want to feel close to their partner, even if they don't know them very well.

However, I did find an article about dopamine and prolactin levels after sex.

As dopamine production starts to decline right after orgasm, prolactin increases and lowers the sex drive from "OMG YES!" to "Meh," so that we can go about our lives.

Maybe that's why I prefer to sleep alone after activities.

This article also made me question if I produce excess dopamine, but that can be saved for my private blog.

I guess what I've realized tonight is that sex truly is a personal, relative, case-by-case experience that can't be pigeon-holed into being a one, general experience.

*Yes, I know, google research isn't real research. I wish the library was open at 2am.

"And, hey. I choose my company by the beating of their hearts, not the swelling of their heads."

To pretentious assholes that think their taste in music, clothing, movies, TV shows (WHAT THE FUCK EVER) is BETTER than everyone else's:

If your opinion of a person is severely impacted by their tastes, WAKE THE FUCK UP.

So what if someone likes Lady GaGa or One Republic... or dare I say it... NICKELBACK.

So what if someone likes to watch Gossip Girl or Project Runway?

SO WHAT IF I LIKED THE HANNAH MONTANA MOVIE AND HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL?!

Sometimes things are just meant to be fun.

To "just dance."

No, I personally don't believe there's any substance to some of these things people like, but it's fun. It's catchy. Its purpose is exactly that.

I'm really done with you people.

You all can just go fucking drive off of a BORING PRETENTIOUS CLIFF for all I care.

I'm gonna go rock out to some Kelly now.

"The Devil and God are raging inside of me."

This is my 100th entry.

Religion has two conflicting views.
Depending on which faith you practice, you either see God in everyone or you see the Devil in everyone.

When these two views meet, the universe explodes.
I've seen it happen.

I don't know where I'm going with this.
I've just always found that fascinating.

Hey. Did you know that if you reverse "God," you get "dog," and if you flip "Devil," it reads, "lived?"
One means nothing, really. And the other I interpret as... you've truly lived if you flirt with the devil.

Oh and the new Brand New album leaked and it's amazing me.
Fin.

"Hello me are you in there, making sure you're not dead, smelled some rotting flesh"

My experiences have led me to believe that sex is not sacred.
Which is completely acceptable in our society (by some) but what I don't accept is how it's also led me to such a strange disconnect with my body.
My body is no longer sacred.

There's something not right there.
Rather, there's EVERYTHING not right there.

Several weeks ago, I had a dream about having an outer body experience.
Not like the ones I wrote about in the last post, but more spiritual... and disturbing.
My soul separated from my body and washed it.
My soul scrubbed my body until it was raw and red.
And then it raped my body.

I just read a short story from the book "We So Seldom Look on Love," by Barbara Gowdy (1997).
It was a personal essay by a necrophiliac.
It made me wonder what the connection with a body and sex is.
Sex is pleasure and it doesn't necessarily matter who it is with... at least for some people in this world.
I personally have that disconnect with body/sex/love. I'm not saying I'm completely comfortable with it, as my dream may obviously tell me, but it's just how I am at the moment.

After a discussion with my class that this reading was assigned to, I'm left to wonder why I don't think my body is sacred.
Most of the women in the class think their bodies are.
One woman in particular said, "I've been taking care of and reclaiming my body for as long as I've been alive. So it damn better be mine even when I die."

Another woman linked this to a line in a poem we read the first day of class.
"Maybe to truly understand sex, one must be fully destroyed by it."


It's a lot for me to think about.
Especially after my Jekyll & Hyde battle just last night.


Driven by pure desire, it seems that Hyde always wins.

"There's a man assigned to me and he checks on my stability."

Ever had your body just switch to autopilot?

My autopilot switches on and the old me is screaming, "Stop. Don't you remember me?"

It's like an outer body experience, but weirder, 'cause it's really 18 year old me just watching destructive 22 year old me.

I'm just waiting for the day when my Jekyl & Hyde fuse and stop fighting.

Can't stand the fighting.

It's the case of "Dani California" vs. "Mary Jane's Last Dance" all over again...

The new album, "Hot Mess," by Cobra Starship is awesome upon first listen.

A really great, upbeat pop album.

But as I listened to it again, I realized...

THEY STOLE TWO MELODIES FROM TWO VERY POPULAR SONGS.

Jack'd #1:

"Living in the Sky with Diamonds," has the same, "Oh, oh here she comes," lyrics and melody as Hall & Oats', "Maneater."

What. the. fuck.

Jack'd #2:

"The Scene is Dead; Long Live the Scene", has the same melody as "American Girl" by Tom Petty... with a sliiight variation in lyrics.

You all know the, "Oh yeah. Alright. Take it easy, baby. Make it last all night..." Tom Petty-goodness. Cobra throws their fangs in and claims that little melody as well.

I don't know if it was done on purpose, if they have the rights to it, if it doesn't matter because it's only a part of a song or if anyone even noticed like I did, but GODDAMN.

I'm not going to analyze this album any longer, because I'm afraid of what else I'll find.

Cobra Starship, I'm throwing my fangs down and suspending you from my playlists for a while...