Thursday, October 28, 2010

Don’t Shout, Please

Girls who are, at least, average looking can have sex whenever they want… Or so they say. I have never tried it, nor have I seen a girl do it so explicitly, but I’m pretty sure in 90% of the cases, if a female asks a random guy to fuck her the answer will be “yes, please”.

I know that option exists. Somehow, every time I think about trying, for a night, to be the slutty girl a bunch of guys pass around I think about my brother, his roommate and the hundredth of conversation I have heard from them; they’ve talked about those girls that really doesn’t matter if they’re smart, funny or nazis, they’re willing to spread their legs and it’s all there is to it. Then, I think about how sick to his stomach would my brother be if he knew his little sister was one of those.

So, there it is, that’s the main reason why I keep it under my skirt.

I can play hard to get; I mean, I’m no master but I’m naturally good at it (you know, the shyness and sarcastic jokes don’t exactly yell “I’m not wearing underwear!”). The problem is, I love sex. Even if it is just with myself. If you know where I’m going with this you win a cookie… Or a vibrator, because that’s where I’m going with this.

Just a week ago, I was (very innocently) shopping for a pair of slippers in an underwear store when I noticed they also sell vibrators; apparently this store thinks that if we, girls, are already fitting our pussies into these really tight uncomfortable thongs, the least we could do is thank them at the end of day.

It wasn’t going to be my first vibrator, but the situation was completely different; the first time I went to a sex shop with my boyfriend, this time I was going to go to an underwear store alone. I went from kinky to pathetic. It took me a couple of days to convince myself it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, or better yet, it would be totally worth it.

It went something like this: So, I’m on the store. Now, I can’t just buy a vibrator, I have to buy something else, right? If not, I would be the girl who NEEDS a vibrator. Maybe I could buy winter pjs, which I need… Nope, I prefer a thong. I really don’t have a lot of them and lets just face it, guys love them. Oh! A beautiful pair of thighs that I also need (it’s cold and I have a really cute skirt… Yeah, you know, whatever).Great, now I have something to buy aside from that thing. Man… Now, I really want the thong, and there it is, a really sexy but classy one (if there’s such a thing). Wait! I can’t buy a pair of knickers without the bra that matches, it would break the whole illusion… So you could say I need that bra. Why was I here on the first place? Oh, yeah, the vibrator! Now it’s pretty simple, I will just grab it on my way out, as if it was that accessory that would go great with the whole shopping spree but that I don’t really need (and that’s the key).

By the time I was out of the store I swear I could hear Rocky’s soundtrack playing on the back, but there was one last stop before I had to head home: the supermarket, I needed cereal. That’s how my brain works “I need orgasms… Oh, and by the way, some food would be nice”. Things didn’t go so smooth there, though. The metal detector ratted me out, and some clerk grabbed my bag (I swear I’m not making this stuff up); I haven’t read one single book on etiquette, but I’m pretty sure it’s frown upon to peak inside some stranger’s underwear shopping bag. Luckily, that lady agreed with me and just let me go. 

Once I arrived to the dorms I wasn’t able to erase that stupid smile off my face; when a nun asked me how I was doing I felt like going “Awesome! I just bought a vibrator and nothing happened!”… But I’m pretty sure that would have blew the whole incognito vibe I was going for.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Sit Still and Behave

Welcome to her busy dizzy life,
Of going out and getting high,
And following all the latest trends
While shedding all her oldest friends.
It’s been weeks worth of weekends
when fake I.D.s and fake passions are her best friends.
She’s been thinking wishing she could hide
From the girls with the comments passing by.
It’s the boys in bars on Friday night
That replace the emptiness inside.
She’ll be spending her whole weekend
Faking laughs and faking smiles with her fake friends.
Promises you made back home
Are crumpled like the goodbye notes;
And last night’s dirty clothes
Were on the floor next to the phone,
And it’s been disconnected months ago.
No calls from your friends back home.
You lost your point of view and now
It’s got the best of you.
It really comes as no surprise,
She’s gonna break.

She’s Gonna Break Soon

I’m actually being quite dramatic… I’m beginning to have a great time. But let’s just ignore that, since it makes me more interesting if I just complain.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I’d Just be the Catcher in the Rye and all

The first weeks of my new college have resemble my worst years of junior high more than I’d wish for.

You see, I wasn’t really popular while I was growing up, and it was mostly my own fault; there weren’t any bullies or Regina Georges to blame. It’s Simple, I don’t like the attention. I spent most of my classes laughing with a friend about how much the word angina sounds like vagina, and that’s about it.

Where I’m going with this… ? Hum… Let me check my notes. Ok, here it is: Starting a life in a new place is hard, at any age (yes, I’m pretending I’m giving you brand new information. Go along with it and nod, please). It’s even harder for someone who blushes every time all eyes are on her; and worse if she can’t avoid those eyes since every time she opens her mouth people think “oh, she talks funny”.

Considering my social disability, it is a given that I won’t be receiving friendship bracelets any time soon. On the contrary, I have found myself alone in my room listening to Boulevard of Broken Dreams wondering if that phase wasn’t suppose to be over about 5 years ago.

But, before Holden Caulfield gives me a pat on the back, I have to say… I’m not complaining; I’m aware this things take time.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

What’s the Routine on Joining a Monastery?

If you know me at all, you would know that having a roof over my head is a very big deal for me; that’s why the first thing I did once I got to Valladolid was find a dorm. I’ll make a long story short, I had two options. A boys and girls dorm and a catholic only girls option… I know, right? Well, hold your horses.

The unisex dorm had just a few rules and boys <3; other than that, it had lousy common rooms and even lousier bedrooms with a bathroom where, I swear (and I do swear it), you can take a dump while you’re showering. The stuck-up chicks dorm looked like a hotel, if hotels had libraries and chapels; big individual bedrooms with bathrooms where you can fit at least 10 people (not that I’m going to try), but it does have a very unsettling name: Slaves of Jesus Christ’s Sacred Heart.

In hopes that the name has a secret kinky S&M connotation and that I was planning to become a lesbian anyway, I chose the all-dudettes way.

It has just been a week, but I’m in a serious need of testosterone. The only male specimen I’ve seen around here was a technician, and he only made it through the lobby. 

Whatever, maybe the desperation will make me better in bed.