Nope not dead...in hiding...

Nah. I'm not dead. Just hiding out from everyone, not really wanting to deal with everything. Yuck. But I guess bloggerland is calling to me because I'll be posting soon.

Such is love....

Yesterday I worked a 12 hour shift, from 9 a.m. till 10 p.m. thanks to me getting my second job. No big, though, I need the money and my family was getting on my nerves. We're leaving tomorrow for our family reunion, and as some of you may recall, I was also supposed to be seeing Boyfriend along the way. The plan was from to attend the family reunion from Thursday to Sunday, and then Sunday evening leave out to Indiana to see him. I would be taking 4 days of vacation ON TOP of the family reunion time to be with him. His only task? To get my ticket. I should've known.

The first problem arose when he miscalculated his money and realized he didn't have enough to buy the plane ticket. We argued about that for a while and for a minute, I refused to entertain the thought of taking the Greyhound back home, a 10+ hour ride. After bitching to my mother about it, she shook her head and chuckled, "Umph! You mean he's going to take his whole paycheck in order to pay for a one-way ticket for you? What a schmuck...". I realized I was being selfish, and if I really wanted to see him, I could make the sacrifice of taking the bus.

The second problem reared its ugly head after he opened his bank account, and was told it would be 10-14 business days before he would be able to receive his credit card along with the precious 3 number security code on the back. You know...the one that's needed to purchase anything online? Yeah. By the time the mailman arrived with that, it would be too late to by any ticket... and so I vented my frustration to him and his fallback answer was shouting at me, "I'm doing all I can!!!"

We pushed that problem aside when I repeatedly asked him to check the Greyhound site for ticket prices and what not, so that I could arrange for someone to pick me up. Today's Wednesday, and he's the king of procrastination, but me not knowing how I'm going to get home was not settling well with me.

Here's a little backstory:

Boyfriend has very minimum responsibility. You know this already. His parents have taken care of everything for him since creation, and now that he's a grown man, he still isn't motivated to do something until his mother calls bitching and complaining. Then he in turn bitches about being bitched at and reluctantly does it. Some man, huh? Remember, I had to bitch at him to get a job so that he could have money to travel this summer. And when he was given responsibility, to go to class, he ended up flunking out of the same class--twice and being kicked out of his music school.

What's funny about Boyfriend is that he thinks he's doing something. No, really! And that when people bitch at him the WHOLE WORLD must be against him, because he's doing everything in his sheer will power to do it right. He honestly told me a while ago that he was scouting a $1500 monitor for his computer--to play his game with. When I told him that was stupid, why not save that and buy a little car?, he reacted like that was a foreign concept. Having the ability to travel at will as opposed to sitting on your butt and playing your computer game? Easy choice, hands down. The computer game will obviously win every time.

Back to the present:

Last night, after making it home, I called him.

Boyfriend: Hello?
Me: Hey, how are you?
Boyfriend: Good... (I hear him move away from the phone to speak into his computer's mic, on his game no doubt)

I try to make conversation, and my head ends up getting bit off.

Me: What's your problem?!

Boyfriend: Nothing! I'm in p-v-p zone... (person versus person...apparently a very, very important zone in the game)

Me (sarcastically): Well, sorry to be getting in the way...

Boyfriend (distracted): What? Look, I don't need this attitude....

Me: (snapping) Do you just want me to call you back later?

Boyfriend: Whatever....yeah, that's fine.

Me: Fine, I'll call you tomorrow.

Boyfriend: Fine.

We slam the phone on each other. Y'all, I just worked a fucking 12-hour day!! What happened to, "Hey baby, how was your day? How you feeling?" I ended up calling back, of course, later on that night, and that's when we had the Greyhound fight. Here's the kicker: He wants me to take a bus from Indiana back home, arriving here approximately 5:30 in the morning.

"Boyfriend, I can't do that."

"YES YOU CAN!!!"

"No I can't! Who's going to come pick me up from the station at 5 in the morning? My parent's won't do that, they have to be at work at 8!"

"WELL, I'M TELLING YOU THAT'S AN OPTION AND YOU'RE REFUSING TO DO IT--"

"Honey, I'm a 20-year-old woman, and I don't have any business traveling that late a night...on the Greyhound...by myself...."

"I'M DOING THE BEST I CAN!! UGH!" Right, I'm stressing him out so bad...

"I can't travel like that! I wouldn't have a way to get home..."

"You could take a cab...."

"Are you fucking nuts? Taking a cab at 5:30 in the morning?"

"LOOK, I'VE TRIED THE BEST I CAN AND YOU HAVE OPTIONS AND YOU DON'T WANT TO TAKE THEM SO THAT'S IT. JUST DON'T COME! JUST DON'T COME THEN!"

(softly) "Well it looks like I'm not going to be able to..."

"FINE! DON'T COME! I'M GOING TO BED!!" (pause) "GOODNIGHT!!!"

(another pause...even softer) "Goodnight honey." And he slams the phone.

I was too stunned to even cry. I just looked at the phone for a few minutes and talked myself into calming down and going to sleep.


I think I'm fed up. No, no, I was fed up a while ago. Now I think I'm beyond that point. I feel trapped--I know he's not going to change, I sometimes wonder if there's someone out there who would be able to step up to the plate, but I can't leave him. Or rather, I'm scared to. Every time I try to talk to him about what's bothering me--his lack of will to be responsible (and a man), his immaturity, and his not seeing anything wrong with it, he jumps on the defense and it's like talking to a 2 year old with his fingers in his ear.


I don't know what to do....I'm open to suggestions...even from any asshole Anons who are bound to find this post...

Blah

Bah humbug. I'm:

a) constipated--went out with a coworker last night and downed a couple of drinks along with a huge plate of chili cheese fries

b) feeling mentally spent after being dragged to church this morning

c) counting down the days until I go see Boyfriend--7 days to be exact


Even though I feel mentally blah after church, I must admit, every time I go I usually get a good laugh out of it. Some of those peeps are nuts. Ahhh...the power of salvation....

The freaks come out!

I remember the day I lost my virginity. Actually, it was night, in my grandmother's living room, on the floor with a squeaky air mattress underneath me. It was Boyfriend's first time visiting me, and we had planned the night for a long time. Everything was ready--condoms, my first sexy lingerie, the t.v. turned up loud, but not too loud to wake my grandmother. Now that I think about it, I think she knew what the hell we were doing, because she closed her door that night--and she never does that. I feel kind of bad...but hey, opportunity knocked.

Anyway, it wasn't really romantic. At all. Just the way I like it. First, he went down on me, complete with small bites, "Ah! Shit!", and "Ooops, sorry....". He was a little inexperienced (now you wouldn't be able to tell that...he eats pussy like a champ! :) ). Then, I returned the favor, pulling out all stops. We still laugh about him doing the whole guy whimpering "I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum!!!" and me not pulling up fast enough. I was caught dead in the eye, up the nose, in my hair...ahem, you get the point. The only thing would could do was laugh about it.

After that and a lot of extra foreplay, I was tired and not all that willing to have sex. Of course, he was in his zone and kept nudging, rubbing, and grinding on me until finally I rolled over, looked him right in his eye, and said, "Okay. Let's fuck."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking like a kid in a candy store.

"Yep," I answered, rolling over to my back. "Let's do this."

After reading ALL of these stories about first times, and hearing the horrific tales of my friends and family (yeah....my aunts are pretty down to Earth about these things), when he slid into me, it didn't hurt at all! I looked up at him in surprise, and his face mirrored mine. That was all the motivation we needed.

Another myth I want to dispel: Contrary to popular belief, virgin guys DO NOT cum easily. He must have pounded away for centuries until he came. Not that I minded then (these days I would probably tell him to hurry the hell up), because I was in full Penthouse mode. Nails were in his back, legs in the air, and I was chanting up to the high heavens, dirty words and all. Finally, we collapsed exhausted and called it a night.

The next afternoon, we had sex again. Then, later on that night, we boogied down two more times, back to back. Boyfriend was so tired after the second time as soon as he was able to pull on his clothes, he passed out (which was adorable by the way)! But my bits and pieces were sore beyond belief, so I was kind of relieved that we had settled down.

I guess this post ties in to my previous one about my slipping libido, and to remind me of just how freaky we can be....

Menstrual Madness

Last month, I decided to be smart. Boyfriend was in town, I didn't have to start working yet, and I decided I didn't need my monthly gift either. So, with the blessing of modern technology (birth control), I skipped my flow. For only God knows what reason, this month I decided to have it, and be one with my body, in tune with Nature, yadda yadda yadda.

I guess my period's pissed off at me for ditching it. Cause it came back with a vengence. And it brought a nasty little cold sore with it. You know, the one that everyone keeps looking at on the sly because it looks so disgusting? Yeah. That's me.

In lieu of bodily wonders, I've hit a financial (and thus social) slump, and have been kind of depressed. Hence, the lack of blogging. Who wants to read about someone else's boring problems? I prefer to write when I have the juicy, funky goodness.

However, on a more positive note, Boyfriend and I are working on our ever evolving sex life. I finally broke down and told him yesterday on our 2 year anniversary that I was a) sick of not having orgasms during sex b) worried because I can't have orgasms during sex c) feeling slightly unenthusiastic about sex in general and d) glad I was finally finding the courage to tell him.

Don't get me wrong--he's known about my orgasmic problems since we've started having sex.

And he's done all that he knows how (remember, we lost our virginity to each other). So it's not his fault. He's constantly asking what he can do, looking at different books, etc. which is one of the reasons I love him. It was just...me. I've hit some type of sexual pit, fallen in, and am now just deciding to climb out. As you may recall, I was on the prowl when I first met him. I was a Prowless. I was a prowling thing-a-ma-bob. You get the point. But now I'm beginning to feel like the frumpy house wife. I refuse to allow sex to feel like it's all for his ultimate enjoyment while I get the short end of the stick--you know, feeling connected, compassion, oneness, and all of the emotional b.s. I want a killer orgasm and I want it now!

This of course excites him to no end (another reason why I love him) and he's ready to give this new sexual attitude a try the next time we see each other. I'll let you know how it turns out...

Oh yeah! Have I ever told about the night we lost our virginity? No? Hmm...maybe tomorrow....

Say What??

I work at a clothing store (actually, I'm about to work at two clothing stores) in the mall here in town. The store recently lost one of its managers, and another one went on a two week vacation. The results were having two associates fill in manager positions for the next two weeks until they could hire more help.

One of the associates is cool. The other one, though, is positively Clueless. She doesn't know what she's doing. She stresses out way too fast, which is not good when you're in charge of running a store. And apparently, she isn't really fond of me. Chalk it up to my female intuitions, but I knew she didn't care for me the first day I met her. She said hi with one of those fake, polite smiles and didn't really say much to me after that. Unfortunately, the first day she had to open the store by herself, I was the one who was there working with her.

Not only did I witness ALL of her mistakes and her near mental breakdown, I apparently bugged the shit out of her with questions that only she could answer (as manager) for customers. It wasn't intentional, but someone had to be in charge and since she was wearing the hat, I handed over her fair share of responsibility. Of course, the store was a disaster, and it was held against her.

Today, I worked with her again, filling in for someone else who had a funeral to go to. We both opened the store, this time not having to worry about her making any mistakes. One of the more experienced managers did everything for her the night before. We went into the back room to start the opening procedures, and she bent down to pick something up. Because we all wear low-rise pants, her ass crack was showing. I didn't say anything, obviously, but she must've felt self-conscious because she said, "Don't be looking at my butt crack."

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes, "because I woke up this morning definitely thinking about looking at your crack."

She gave one of her fake polite laughs, and I continued, "Don't worry. I know how it is to wear low-rise jeans. My crack shows sometimes too!"

"Well," she said dead serious, "your butt is definitely bigger than mine, so you would show a lot more crack." What the hell? I walked over to a mirror and did my little "yeah I know I'm fine" jig in it before saying, "Yep, I gotta keep my figure for my man!"

"Your man, " she echoed and didn't say anything else. I left it alone, letting it go. We went out to the front of the store, and while she did some more work (that I have to watch her do and sign off on), she mentioned, "Oh, today you're going to take your 15 minute break at 9:30 this morning."

"What?" I asked incredulously, looking at the time. It was 9:01 and we had just gotten to the store. "Why?"

"Because Ashley (our district manager) told me that at her store, they take their breaks around that time so that no one will be left by themselves during the day."

"But, that doesn't make sense," I sputtered, confused. "We just got here! What am I taking a break from--walking through the door and going to the bathroom?"

"Actually," she said, sighing, "it makes a lot of sense. Because soon we'll start opening at 8, so you'll be here for a couple of hours."

Readers, I ain't no punk (pardon my ghetto), but I know when to pick my battles. I figured it would freeze in hell before I would go on a break before even working, and she must've saw it in my face because she came back a few minutes later and said, "Well, someone gets here at noon so you can take your break then."

The icing on my cake was later on that day when I had to ask her advice for a customer. The girl was telling me that the dirty yellowish color was "in" and I was skeptical.

"Clueless, what do you think?" I asked as she was walking by. "Is dirty yellow in?"
Clueless raised her eyebrow. "You know, I could take that as a racist comment." She's Mexican, by the way. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever," I said, and continued the conversation, asking her the same question. Who the hell was she? And how the hell am I racist? Uh, duh, I'm black, remember?! My ancestors were in chains LONG before her's came across the border. Ack.

We ended the day with not much said between us. It's clear--she doesn't like me and vice versus.

Since I'm on my way straight to Hell....

....I might as well explore other religions. That sounds bad, doesn't it? Hmmm....

I was raised Baptist. My grandfather was a preacher, but he was the dirty, sleep-with-women-in-the-choir, bitter old man type of a preacher. Both of my parents were both raised in Baptist homes, and are conventional Christians. It's not surprising that their children were raised the same.

I've belonged to three churches in my life: 1) my grandfather's, who was, in all rights, not the ideal spiritual home for anyone in their right mind 2) a friend's of my dad who happened to be the preacher in the church. There were only 5 people in the congregation, my family. The others were the preacher, his wife, and the organist and 3) the church we currently belong to. Actually, I don't think of myself as one who "belongs" to the church. My dad fell in love with the church, and decided, as the head of the family, that was the church we would belong to. My mother doesn't care much for it, but to keep the peace she attends faithfully (like a good Christian woman would do), and my sister and I have no feelings towards it whatsoever. We were made to attend in the beginning, and when asked if we liked it or not, we responded "no". My dad decided that was too bad, and here we are.


Maybe it's my past and current experiences with these churches that have tainted my view of the religion, but in my opinion, it goes deeper than that. I never understood Christianity. I mean, yes, I can read and write and comprehend, I've read the whole Bible, and I've been deeply steeped in Christian philosophy my whole life. As I've gotten older, I guess...I've been wondering if it's for me.

I damn near had a mental breakdown last year as I agonized over whether having sex before marriage was right or wrong. Seriously. No Joke. I was in therapy for almost 6 months. Boyfriend was horrified (surprise, surprise) at the thought of being abstinent, and I made the decision whilst he was on spring break, which totally ruined it for him. I still feel bad about that one. Part of me, the one who knew she had an obligation to her faith to stop having sex and repent, tried to talk the other part of me, the one who knew that having sex with Boyfriend was more than just physical and it was an important part of our relationship, out of my "sinful ways".

Ack. That lasted for about 2 weeks. Then, I went to visit Boyfriend, and that theory flew out the window. I resolved that if I was going to go to Hell, it would be worth it.

It seemed the whole sex issue kind of opened a can of worms for me. I questioned the theory of temptation--why is something that is supposedly so wrong feel so right? Especially if you love someone. And wasn't reproduction a natural part of life? As I began to question these things, I also began to realize I didn't know jack about the history of my faith. Where did these ideas come from? Something told me it wasn't all from God.

This is where wikipedia came in. During my free time (which was sparse), when I wasn't sleep or blogging, I was learning about Christianity. No one told me it had such a bloody and hypocritical past! (I hope this doesn't offend anyone) Tons of people died as Christianity came on the scene and forced others to change their religion (pagans). I learned of the Gnostic Gospels. And the more I learned, the more my mentality slowly began to change. Seemed to me like there was more human intervention than I was taught in the Christian world.

This sparked my interest in learning about other religions, such as Buddhism. But they still didn't seem to do it for me. What am I missing?

I'm still searching. I've discovered a new one (that I won't name right now) that's really interesting, and really speaking to me. I cautiously asked Boyfriend what he knew about it:

Boyfriend: My ex-girlfriend was into it.
Me: What did you think about it?
Boyfriend: Not much. (Gah, he's so insightful....NOT)
Me: I mean, you didn't think anything about the fact that she was into it?
Boyfriend: Well, I thought it was kind of weird...but that's about it. Why, you're not getting into it are you?
Me: I'm just learning about it.

I changed the subject before he got suspicious. Till I decide what I want to do, I'll keep my journey to myself. It'll just be wikipedia and my little secret.

Holy Post

I've been on a spiritual quest.


Okay, technically it's not a spiritual quest, but I've been wikipedia-ing a lot. It's too late tonight for me to right a full post about it, but I'll fill you in tomorrow. Till then...

Another dreary day in cow land...

Blah. This summer hasn't really kicked off with a bang. The weather really needs to make up its mind right now, because one minute it's bright and sunny and the next pouring rain for hours. Today's my off day and I'm bored as hell. Oh well, that's what booze is for....

You may now kiss the bride....

I just woke up from a nightmare. In it, I was married. It was weird. One day I'm single, living the carefree life, and the next, I'm due to get married in a few hours. What scared me about the dream was how realistic it was. I had this awful feeling of being trapped, like I couldn't wake up and all I knew was that I really, really didn't want to marry the guy (who happened to be Boyfriend). My heart kept saying, "You know you don't want to marry this guy, why are you here?!" And my head kept saying, "Because, we've been through so much! I owe it to him, right?" Either way, I was steadily moving towards matrimony throughout the dream.

My mother was a key instrument in the dream. She kept giving me her life-like pep talks about how not to worry, everyone has pre-wedding jitters. I would nod wide-eyed and then walk away zombie like. At one point, my old puppy love from high school showed up. He was all grown up and looking...well, he wasn't my crush back then for his IQ. Even he kept asking me, "Wait, you're getting married? Since when? WHY??" That didn't help.

All of my friends were shocked, because of the rush. No one believed me. One of my acquaintances even missed work so she could "witness" the catastrophe I was about to go through. "Ooh, I can't wait to see this!" she cackled, slipping on a pair of slacks at her home (don't ask).

Seeing my old puppy love really through me for a loop and I started thinking about being with him instead of Boyfriend (in the dream). My all-knowing mother had an answer for this, too: "Don't worry about it. When your father and I were first married, I had an ex-boyfriend who used to send me [love] letters all the time. He was so nice. I just kept them from your father. Eventually, they stopped." Thanks, Ma.

Finally, the day of my wedding happens. Everyone's smirking at me from the pews. I don't see a preacher. All I see is Boyfriend, standing there calm. I don't remember (in the dream) exchanging rings or anything. I feel like I'm about to be sick. I want to run, but I can't. I keep telling myself that it'll be fine, that these are just jitters. I owe it to him. One minute I'm at the altar, and the next I'm at a drive-thru with my parents with my father asking me to see my ring again. I show it to him, realizing that it's just the promise ring Boyfriend gave me a while ago. No big deal. [Reaches for small paper bag to hyperventilate....moves the bag aside to write] The dream was awful. After the marriage, before I woke up, there was a brief moment of just....pure unhappiness. It's hard to describe, I just knew I wasn't happy. Boyfriend stayed emotionless throughout the dream, which didn't help.

I awoke freaked the fuck out. What was that dream trying to tell me? I was too scared to even get pass that question. Yeesh.