Over the past month, about five of my friends have called me to tell me that they've just been in a threesome.
Apparently, these sexcapades are going on in my friends' lives while I'm at home in bed watching The Hills and eating Oreos with my hair wrapped wearing my old dependable holey nightgown.
I am the first to admit that I am sexually oblivious. I have been a graduate of Xavier University for two years and I am just now finding out who did who and when. But I thought the threeway was the last card in the deck for desperate married couples!
Yesterday I was watching Tyra with my grandma in the nursing home and this 19-year-old girl told her parents that she'd had a threesome in an elevator with some other girl and man that she didn't know on the family cruise.
So if I am correct, if the threeway is the last card in the deck and the Tyra girl was 19 and my friends are in their early 20s, then what will be doing to get off in ten years, fucking cats?
Okay. Let me slow my roll. Maybe I'm going overboard here.
A close girlfriend of mine told me that she and her two guy friends just met up one night and the threesome just kind of happened. Just kind of happened. You have to understand that I have always been a cautious person. I look both ways before I cross the street and keep a travel-sized Lysol in my purse just in case I have to pee at the mall. I have never just kind of ever did anything, especially not sucked a dick while taking it up my ass in a basement.
Am I being rude? I'm sorry, but I just want you to know how foreign this is to me. It was not until college that I became comfortable with hugging. And I have to say, this whole threesome thing is making me paranoid.
Kind of like when I was in the fifth grade and used to watch scribble porn at my uncle's house. After that, if I saw a female teacher talking to a male one, I just assumed it was to schedule sex. Or if the pizza man came to the door and didn't leave immediately, he wasn't waiting on his tip, he was waiting for me to strip. Now, when my favorite couple invites me to their apartment for our bi-weekly Scrabble games, I sit at the end of the couch drinking a Red Bull, afraid that if I doze off, they will try to get something poppin'.
But maybe that would not be a bad thing. Perhaps I am thinking of this all wrong. My friends don't have accelerated sex lives. I'm just behind. I have always sort of felt like I need to loosen up and get with the times and now that I think about it, what better time than in your 20s to explore? If anyone needs me I'll be in my basement...multitasking.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Getting Physical
The other day I think that I lost my virginity to the bicycle seat in my spin class.
Recently, I joined a gym. It just kind of happened. I went to the gym office to receive a free two week pass that I didn't plan on using when I was sweet-talked into buying a membership. What can I say? The skinny white teenagers in bikinis looked like they were having so much fun in the pool in the orientation video.
Fast forward to Tuesday. I decided to go with my Aunt Lara to a spin class. For those of you who do not know, a spin class in this super intense group bicycling class. I had first heard about it on some show about celebrity work out trends. I don't know why I, at over 400lbs, though I could take the same work-out class that Halle Berry takes six times a week but what the hell? On the show, it looked fun.
So I got to the class early because I was excited, which was good, because it took 20 minutes for the instructor, who was as big as I was in the third grade, to strap me on to the bike,
"There," she said, stepping back and smiling at me on the bike, "doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes," I lied.
I assume that she could tell I did not feel good, but walked away anyway. My feet were strapped onto the peddles with leather straps. The seat was so high that I was hunched over the bike, and the sharp tip of the seat felt like it was actually in my vagina. Just maintaining that God-awful position was a workout. I was sweating profusely, and those who know me know that I never sweat.
Literally three minutes into the class, I left. I unhooked myself from the bike and walked out. It was just too hard, and I felt pathetic because I hate giving up on something. But I had to force myself to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't do it before I started screaming in the middle of the gym.
As I started walking back to the locker room, I became very angry that I even joined the gym in the first place. Everyone was sexy and skinny and cute and young and flirting with each other over blueberry soy smoothies. I clearly didn't belong there. I have never felt out of place waiting for my order at McDonald's or shopping at Lane Bryant. How was I supposed to want to work out next to tall, brown, super muscular topless men in small shorts? The idea made me want to cry.
And cry I did next to a naked lady in the steam room. I guess some things, unlike placing my order for a Number 1 with an ice cream cone and three cookies for a dollar, are difficult to do.
Recently, I joined a gym. It just kind of happened. I went to the gym office to receive a free two week pass that I didn't plan on using when I was sweet-talked into buying a membership. What can I say? The skinny white teenagers in bikinis looked like they were having so much fun in the pool in the orientation video.
Fast forward to Tuesday. I decided to go with my Aunt Lara to a spin class. For those of you who do not know, a spin class in this super intense group bicycling class. I had first heard about it on some show about celebrity work out trends. I don't know why I, at over 400lbs, though I could take the same work-out class that Halle Berry takes six times a week but what the hell? On the show, it looked fun.
So I got to the class early because I was excited, which was good, because it took 20 minutes for the instructor, who was as big as I was in the third grade, to strap me on to the bike,
"There," she said, stepping back and smiling at me on the bike, "doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes," I lied.
I assume that she could tell I did not feel good, but walked away anyway. My feet were strapped onto the peddles with leather straps. The seat was so high that I was hunched over the bike, and the sharp tip of the seat felt like it was actually in my vagina. Just maintaining that God-awful position was a workout. I was sweating profusely, and those who know me know that I never sweat.
Literally three minutes into the class, I left. I unhooked myself from the bike and walked out. It was just too hard, and I felt pathetic because I hate giving up on something. But I had to force myself to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't do it before I started screaming in the middle of the gym.
As I started walking back to the locker room, I became very angry that I even joined the gym in the first place. Everyone was sexy and skinny and cute and young and flirting with each other over blueberry soy smoothies. I clearly didn't belong there. I have never felt out of place waiting for my order at McDonald's or shopping at Lane Bryant. How was I supposed to want to work out next to tall, brown, super muscular topless men in small shorts? The idea made me want to cry.
And cry I did next to a naked lady in the steam room. I guess some things, unlike placing my order for a Number 1 with an ice cream cone and three cookies for a dollar, are difficult to do.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
...And the point is?
If you live your life the way you are supposed to, if you fear God and put all your energy into being good to others and fulfilling your dreams, if you don't litter, if you grow up and get married and pay taxes and shit three times a day, if you make your children your world and teach them how to sit with their ankles crossed and say 'please' and 'thank you', if you don't lie and if you brush and floss before and after meals, you still are not safe because you are working towards an end and then in the end, nothing is in your hands and you do not get to bask in the goodness that you worked toward your whole life to claim. If this is not just my observation and really the way that it is, then ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to tell you that WE ARE ALL ROYALLY FUCKED!
Why the starry-eyed optimism you may be asking? My grandmother was recently moved into a nursing home after being released from the hospital. She has Alzheimer's Disease. She has only been in the home for about three days, and she does not leave her bedroom, which she shares with a wheelchair-bound woman who can't hear worth a damn. I am glad that she can not leave the room because I feel that even in her state of mind she would recognize that the home, much like other homes across the nation, is just a rest stop before you pack your bags for the pearly gates. It's not that bad I guess, but it is impersonal. Grandma has like 4 doctors and numerous nurses, sometimes different ones depending on shift changes. They have a habit of talking about her in the third person as if she is not there when her hearing is A+. Old people sit in wheelchairs in the halls with wide, 'my mind is in la-la land' smiles, and the nurses and orderlies smile their 'if you only knew you were about to croak' smiles back.
This is my grandmother's end. This is why she lived day to day trying to live the best life that she could. Shitty, huh?
To make things better, meaning worst, I recently talked to my father about my grandfather's death. In high school, I was told that he died but not really told how. Apparently, he suffered from alcoholism and substance abuse and had a stroke, just to starve himself to death in the nursing home.
When you live long enough to see someone you love suffer from a deteriorating illness, your emotions are at a crossroads. Do you live your life to the fullest because it will one day be snatched away or tip-toe cautiously through life hoping that you will be rewarded in the end? I am related by blood to two people who chose one of each path, and ended up in the same place in the end. I am not at all sure what this is supposed to say to me, but I find myself wondering what the point is.
Why the starry-eyed optimism you may be asking? My grandmother was recently moved into a nursing home after being released from the hospital. She has Alzheimer's Disease. She has only been in the home for about three days, and she does not leave her bedroom, which she shares with a wheelchair-bound woman who can't hear worth a damn. I am glad that she can not leave the room because I feel that even in her state of mind she would recognize that the home, much like other homes across the nation, is just a rest stop before you pack your bags for the pearly gates. It's not that bad I guess, but it is impersonal. Grandma has like 4 doctors and numerous nurses, sometimes different ones depending on shift changes. They have a habit of talking about her in the third person as if she is not there when her hearing is A+. Old people sit in wheelchairs in the halls with wide, 'my mind is in la-la land' smiles, and the nurses and orderlies smile their 'if you only knew you were about to croak' smiles back.
This is my grandmother's end. This is why she lived day to day trying to live the best life that she could. Shitty, huh?
To make things better, meaning worst, I recently talked to my father about my grandfather's death. In high school, I was told that he died but not really told how. Apparently, he suffered from alcoholism and substance abuse and had a stroke, just to starve himself to death in the nursing home.
When you live long enough to see someone you love suffer from a deteriorating illness, your emotions are at a crossroads. Do you live your life to the fullest because it will one day be snatched away or tip-toe cautiously through life hoping that you will be rewarded in the end? I am related by blood to two people who chose one of each path, and ended up in the same place in the end. I am not at all sure what this is supposed to say to me, but I find myself wondering what the point is.
Friday, February 6, 2009
It's Not Easy Being Clean
When I was a child, I was a teacher's pet. I was that girl that always got to take the attendance sheet to the front office, even when I didn't ask to do so. I was also the kid that got to be the "class leader" while the teacher went to pee or smoke cigs in the bathroom. And no one ever said a peep on my watch because they knew I would snitch. Now at the age of 24, I am that girl that, if I hit your car, I would leave a note on the windshield. I don't litter. It's disrespectful to the Earth. I don't even burn CDs or buy bootlegged movies. And I have to tell you, being so good...sucks ass.
I have friends my age who smoke weed, who have threesomes, who go to swinger's clubs, who have relationship problems, who...I don't know...are actually living life and enjoying their twenties. And somehow, being this type of girl has taken a blow to my confidence. I am beginning to lose my desire to do anything because I don't have the guts to do what I want to.
I have a friend named P. One day, when I'm mentally ready, I will share with you our little story. Anywho, when we were freshmen, P was a complete and total sexist nightmare. He and his little crew of sexist nightmares were the life of the campus. When they were not getting high while the rest of us studied our asses off just to barely make Cs, P and company video tapped girl's booties, had serial sex, danced their nights away at shit hole clubs, and made it a habit to rate women as they walked by. They were terrors and went on to sophomore year with 3.0s. Anyway, one day I decided to share my warm memories of P's freshman year with him and he said, "Fuck it. I had fun. You are one of those people who talks about people at the club on the wall while everyone else dances."
That's me in fact, the wallflower shit talker.
I mean, I have done things in my life that I consider worthwhile, but I don't think that it's enough. I want to do more.
I made the mistake of sharing this with Cali, my super blunt newly gay homegirl, and she was disappointed in me. She get's all Maya Angelou on me and goes on and on about how great I am.
"Why do you let other people's perception of you stop you from doing what you want?"
I laughed to myself. I have never cared about other people's perception of me. It is my perception of me that is stopping my progression.
Secret time: I don't really like myself. I never really have, but didn't care because I don't think anyone likes themselves. If we did, we wouldn't die our hair and read self-help books by other losers who don't like themselves. We wouldn't get depressed. We wouldn't sleep around. We wouldn't get addicted to dope. We wouldn't care so fucking much! But now, the only problem is that my little disliking of myself if preventing me from moving forward in my life.
And, on top of that, I feel like a goody-goody. I am at home typing away on my blog while I feel like everyone else doesn't have the time to even read it. They are too busy taking risks and living.
And I would too...if I wasn't so damn clean and scary.
Hmmm, pho-phum, whoa is me.
Well, I would chat longer, but I have to get to isolating myself from excitement.
I have friends my age who smoke weed, who have threesomes, who go to swinger's clubs, who have relationship problems, who...I don't know...are actually living life and enjoying their twenties. And somehow, being this type of girl has taken a blow to my confidence. I am beginning to lose my desire to do anything because I don't have the guts to do what I want to.
I have a friend named P. One day, when I'm mentally ready, I will share with you our little story. Anywho, when we were freshmen, P was a complete and total sexist nightmare. He and his little crew of sexist nightmares were the life of the campus. When they were not getting high while the rest of us studied our asses off just to barely make Cs, P and company video tapped girl's booties, had serial sex, danced their nights away at shit hole clubs, and made it a habit to rate women as they walked by. They were terrors and went on to sophomore year with 3.0s. Anyway, one day I decided to share my warm memories of P's freshman year with him and he said, "Fuck it. I had fun. You are one of those people who talks about people at the club on the wall while everyone else dances."
That's me in fact, the wallflower shit talker.
I mean, I have done things in my life that I consider worthwhile, but I don't think that it's enough. I want to do more.
I made the mistake of sharing this with Cali, my super blunt newly gay homegirl, and she was disappointed in me. She get's all Maya Angelou on me and goes on and on about how great I am.
"Why do you let other people's perception of you stop you from doing what you want?"
I laughed to myself. I have never cared about other people's perception of me. It is my perception of me that is stopping my progression.
Secret time: I don't really like myself. I never really have, but didn't care because I don't think anyone likes themselves. If we did, we wouldn't die our hair and read self-help books by other losers who don't like themselves. We wouldn't get depressed. We wouldn't sleep around. We wouldn't get addicted to dope. We wouldn't care so fucking much! But now, the only problem is that my little disliking of myself if preventing me from moving forward in my life.
And, on top of that, I feel like a goody-goody. I am at home typing away on my blog while I feel like everyone else doesn't have the time to even read it. They are too busy taking risks and living.
And I would too...if I wasn't so damn clean and scary.
Hmmm, pho-phum, whoa is me.
Well, I would chat longer, but I have to get to isolating myself from excitement.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Going Gay: A new energy plan
Because of our current oil crisis, many Americans are stocking up on eco-friendly light bulbs and cooling systems to help our environment. Others are taking the bus and recycling grocery bags. But my close girlfriends are a step ahead of the curve as usual: they are going gay instead of going green.
That's right everybody! Going gay saves a gal these days more energy than clean coal production.
Many of my friends who have just recently turned their backs on men can only talk about how happy they are. How fun it is. How differently it is living without a guy draining you by lathering you with his consistent lies and nonsense. No longer are they plagued with tear-stained pillows and suspicions that their beaus are cheating. Most of them don't know why they didn't think of switching teams earlier. They just no longer have the energy to deal with dudes.
I guess some people could view this as a major problem, especially here in Atlanta, where there are so many lezzies that my mother has commented that she thinks that there is something in the water. But I don't care. My generation shot sexuality lines to hell like ten years ago.
My theory stems from the claims of my newly turned friends. But I know from my OGs (Original Gays) that maintaining a same-sex relationship, as with any relationship worth keeping, is hard. Add on the disgusted looks from people when you go out on dates and the parental disapproval and its damn near impossible.
Either way, I think that we need to look at men today. What is going on with them that so many women rather date a woman than deal with a man? I can not stress how common this is becoming. My friend Cali left her fiance to be with a woman because she has gotten so fed up.
I guess as with other trends, I will sit back and watch how all this plays out. As for myself, I think I will just make like the rest of the US and try to run my home on solar energy.
That's right everybody! Going gay saves a gal these days more energy than clean coal production.
Many of my friends who have just recently turned their backs on men can only talk about how happy they are. How fun it is. How differently it is living without a guy draining you by lathering you with his consistent lies and nonsense. No longer are they plagued with tear-stained pillows and suspicions that their beaus are cheating. Most of them don't know why they didn't think of switching teams earlier. They just no longer have the energy to deal with dudes.
I guess some people could view this as a major problem, especially here in Atlanta, where there are so many lezzies that my mother has commented that she thinks that there is something in the water. But I don't care. My generation shot sexuality lines to hell like ten years ago.
My theory stems from the claims of my newly turned friends. But I know from my OGs (Original Gays) that maintaining a same-sex relationship, as with any relationship worth keeping, is hard. Add on the disgusted looks from people when you go out on dates and the parental disapproval and its damn near impossible.
Either way, I think that we need to look at men today. What is going on with them that so many women rather date a woman than deal with a man? I can not stress how common this is becoming. My friend Cali left her fiance to be with a woman because she has gotten so fed up.
I guess as with other trends, I will sit back and watch how all this plays out. As for myself, I think I will just make like the rest of the US and try to run my home on solar energy.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
One foot in the grave, one foot at the alter
Ever since I was a little kid I wanted to be like my Aunt V.
She was never married and has a fulfilling job in education. She can come and go when she pleases. She can spend what she wants, which includes sending her nieces and nephews Christmas checks. In her 50s, Aunt V is definitely Ne-Yo's independent woman. Somehow, the strict cookie cutter mold of what a woman should be from her generation, a housewife or a secretary until she married, gave my Aunt V room to be what she wanted. I wonder if she has noticed how society has gone back in time.
My last beauless friend Bells now has a boyfriend. Every other woman I know might as well be engaged. This would not scare me if I wasn't only 24 years-old! It's like my generation is playing this game of checkers, and I'm the only little round, black piece that has not been kinged. All I can see is all the other paired up pieces laughing at me from either side of the board.
I even have friends who are dating guys who are losers or who have girlfriends that are only messing around with them because they can. Beautiful, strong girls who dream of being doctors and lawyers, but wouldn't dream of being alone.
My good friend Haynes has even gone out of her way to try to set me up with some guy that she found someplace. Who knows. Does it even matter anymore? People these days find "love" on Craigslist.
This is sad to me, but you have to remember who I am. I played with Barbies minus a Ken. It was Barbie, Skipper, my Cabbage Patch and Glow Worm, having Sex and the City-esque lunches where they discussed their individual divorce settlements on our old living room coffee table.
Another thing that saddens me is that the world has made a scary decision for its occupants with vaginas: you are either an Aunt V. or the 40-year-old woman at the teeny bopper club with the hair weave down to her ankles who thinks she looks good for her age.
I think I will stay on the Aunt V. side.
She was never married and has a fulfilling job in education. She can come and go when she pleases. She can spend what she wants, which includes sending her nieces and nephews Christmas checks. In her 50s, Aunt V is definitely Ne-Yo's independent woman. Somehow, the strict cookie cutter mold of what a woman should be from her generation, a housewife or a secretary until she married, gave my Aunt V room to be what she wanted. I wonder if she has noticed how society has gone back in time.
My last beauless friend Bells now has a boyfriend. Every other woman I know might as well be engaged. This would not scare me if I wasn't only 24 years-old! It's like my generation is playing this game of checkers, and I'm the only little round, black piece that has not been kinged. All I can see is all the other paired up pieces laughing at me from either side of the board.
I even have friends who are dating guys who are losers or who have girlfriends that are only messing around with them because they can. Beautiful, strong girls who dream of being doctors and lawyers, but wouldn't dream of being alone.
My good friend Haynes has even gone out of her way to try to set me up with some guy that she found someplace. Who knows. Does it even matter anymore? People these days find "love" on Craigslist.
This is sad to me, but you have to remember who I am. I played with Barbies minus a Ken. It was Barbie, Skipper, my Cabbage Patch and Glow Worm, having Sex and the City-esque lunches where they discussed their individual divorce settlements on our old living room coffee table.
Another thing that saddens me is that the world has made a scary decision for its occupants with vaginas: you are either an Aunt V. or the 40-year-old woman at the teeny bopper club with the hair weave down to her ankles who thinks she looks good for her age.
I think I will stay on the Aunt V. side.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year! My 2009 Resolutions!
As I sit in my room eating black-eyed peas and greens on this January 1, 2009, I think of the ridiculous 2008 that I have had, and some key resolutions that will keep me from making the same ridiculous mistakes.
5. DON'T TAKE STUPID PEOPLE SERIOUSLY.
Man, so many jerks got under my skin last year. This will not be happening in '09.
4. DO WHAT I WANT TO DO
There was a lot that I wanted to get accomplished last year that I didn't because I let someone tell me it was a bad idea. Now I regret not doing these things, and of course, no one is standing up for telling me to follow my dreams. Not this year.
3. STAY COOL WITH BEING COOL
Everyone this year seemed to have an opinion on what I should be. How I should be. How much different it would be if I could be different. I don't know why I listened. Check my swag. I'm a cool girl.
2. DON'T TAKE SKINNY PEOPLE'S ADVICE
I love my friends, but the crazy advice they gave me, I see now, only applies to the fantasy world that is their skinny lives. I know what's right for me. How about I listen to me this time around.
1. DON'T FALL FOR GUYS WITH BABY MAMAS THEY PLAN TO MARRY, GIRLFRIENDS THAT AREN'T EVEN AS CUTE AS YOU OR GIRLFRIENDS THAT PREVENT THEM FROM PAYING ME 110% OF THEIR ATTENTION.
This year, I just can not go for the guy that can not go for me. It's a waste of time. It's irritating. It's pointless, and in the end leaves me sad, frustrated and lonely. This go around, I am looking for a guy who needs a girlfriend, and not just a girl who is a friend to confide in when their girlfriend pisses them off. This year, I need a man all of my own... who does not have any needy female friends like me.
Well, let's hope that these things 5 points can at least hold me over until February when I will no doubt start repeating my old mistakes again. :)
5. DON'T TAKE STUPID PEOPLE SERIOUSLY.
Man, so many jerks got under my skin last year. This will not be happening in '09.
4. DO WHAT I WANT TO DO
There was a lot that I wanted to get accomplished last year that I didn't because I let someone tell me it was a bad idea. Now I regret not doing these things, and of course, no one is standing up for telling me to follow my dreams. Not this year.
3. STAY COOL WITH BEING COOL
Everyone this year seemed to have an opinion on what I should be. How I should be. How much different it would be if I could be different. I don't know why I listened. Check my swag. I'm a cool girl.
2. DON'T TAKE SKINNY PEOPLE'S ADVICE
I love my friends, but the crazy advice they gave me, I see now, only applies to the fantasy world that is their skinny lives. I know what's right for me. How about I listen to me this time around.
1. DON'T FALL FOR GUYS WITH BABY MAMAS THEY PLAN TO MARRY, GIRLFRIENDS THAT AREN'T EVEN AS CUTE AS YOU OR GIRLFRIENDS THAT PREVENT THEM FROM PAYING ME 110% OF THEIR ATTENTION.
This year, I just can not go for the guy that can not go for me. It's a waste of time. It's irritating. It's pointless, and in the end leaves me sad, frustrated and lonely. This go around, I am looking for a guy who needs a girlfriend, and not just a girl who is a friend to confide in when their girlfriend pisses them off. This year, I need a man all of my own... who does not have any needy female friends like me.
Well, let's hope that these things 5 points can at least hold me over until February when I will no doubt start repeating my old mistakes again. :)
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