The Boyfriend Bucket

Back in my sorority days, I considered my greatest accomplishment to be the only successful tradition I have ever started. The idea was simple: a bucket filled with condoms, a small bottle of Schnapps, a short note and the primary staple of freshly single girl life, lots and lots of chocolate. Additional items, like favorite break up movies, could be always be included. In theory, the bucket providing the recepient with what we all need most in the days following a break up, even an amicable one: comfort and the knowledge that, while loves comes and goes, your friends will always be enablers to self-destructive behavior. I can only imagine where the bucket is now, as it moved from girl to girl, and often back to the same girls over and over. But even without the acutal bucket, the sentiment remains the same. Tonight is an evening devoted to the ideals of the boyfriend bucket--in memory of loves lost, in honor of those yet to come, and in the spirit of sisterhood. May the bucket find its way to you, should you ever need it.

Am I Just Really Bored?

"I once thought I had mono for an entire year, it turned out I was just really bored." -- Wayne's World

I'm sleeping twice as much as normal, and yet infinitely more tired than I should be. My entire body aches. I have almost no interest in leaving my room, and even less in letting anyone else in it. At first, I pegged my general malaise was a sympton of the sweet boy leaving, or perhaps of residual misery over Steve. Perhaps I was feeling tired because I wasn't as happy, or as busy. Perhaps I didn't want to sleep with anyone else because, dare I say it, I missed the sweet boy.

But alas, it's not just me. My non-sexual life partner also reports feeling very tired and achy. Beyond that, Steve is also complaining of the same symptoms, and claims that his new soon-to-be girlfriend shares them as well. While my emotional state remains questionable, at least I can blame it on mono. Now the question is, who gave it to whom?

Obviously we know that I gave it to my friend. That much is clear, and neither of us really care. The same shit always happens to us at the same time; that's why we're life partners. We both recently learned that we are, in fact, girls, for example. Steve's first reaction was, "You must have given to us. You get around more than we do." RAGE! Too many things are wrong with that sentence. Number 1, what the fuck do you mean, "you get around more than we do"? At any given point, I probably have more partners than either of them, but I really prefer not to be called a whore by someone who has meaningless sex with me for a year while he has a live-in girlfriend. Beyond that, I've only had sex with 3 people since May, and one of them was a repeat. I love the complete hypocrisy of it: a boy who has sex like I do is a hero, at least in his own mind, while I am the disease-spreading slut. This is yet another reminder that my place in his life is clearly marked, and shan't be changed. And Number 2, when did he start using "we"? Now they're a unit? My money is on them living together in six months or less. He's using we unconsciously. We're not having sex ever again if he starts dating her. We're just not. It was different before because his last girlfriend got there before me. But now, this is my spot. I earned it, and I'm not about to be usurped by some chick who doesn't know shit about him. Most of that was an unneccessary rant.

I've been up for an hour. I think I've earned going back to bed.

Existentialism on Prom Night

Quite a lot has transpired on since my last post. I hardly know where to begin. Here's my best attempt:

The S: I whole heartedly agree with the comment on my previous post pondering how much someone who acted like that could really care. At the core, he is not a terribly good person. He has almost no morals, and subscribes to the most intense sense of Horatio Alger individualism. He's a firm believer in emotional natural selection--those who love him are weak and deserve to perish for the good of the species. I knew all of this about him before, but the worst parts of him appealed to me the most. Typical girl thing--love the rotten ones, and love to bitch about them. Or perhaps it was that his comfort with depravity liberated me from my own better half.

The sweet boy: This boy deserves his anonymity. For the last 8 weeks, we've been seeing each other, though obviously not exclusively. From the beginning I knew he was leaving at the end of the summer, but after the S disaster, I couldn't help but start to like him. I'm not going to say too much about this one, but I'm missing him to death.

Boy Blue: In all the times we've hooked up, he's never once stayed the night, or even fained interest in staying once the condom was off. Then last week, he stays the whole night and is uncharacteristically attentive. What the fuck?

Newest Boy: He's a nice kid, if a little goofy. I don't think I can date a vegan though...wings as a post coital snack would probably be frowned upon.

In other random boy related news, I have a stalker. I gave my email address to this guy like three months ago, we exchanged a few emails and he seemed fine so I gave him my number. We chatted once, and he was entirely too dom for my tastes, so I stopped returning his calls. Then he started calling me from other phone numbers, and being very pushy ("Who are you with? Are you going to fuck him?"). So I stopped answering my phone unless I knew the number. It seemed like he got the hint, but oh no, he's popped up again. This kid just won't give it up.

The other day, I got the strangest message:
Boy: "Want to hang out?"
Hussy: "Who is this?"
Boy: "This is Mat's friend. He recommended you."
Hussy: "?!?!?"
Boy: "So...you want to hang out?"

I'M NOT AN ESCORT!

And that's pretty much it, for the moment. Though with some spaces recently opening up, I am interviewing new boys. Current favorite is a very well defined Eygptian boy. Delicious.