Nymphomania or Narcolepsy? 2.0

I’m not an emoter.  I don’t talk.  I get upset about stuff and I sit on them like an egg waiting to hatch.  I want very badly to behave like most people but I can’t.  I can barely understand people.

I need time off and time away.  I am confused  most of the time by the fact that I know how I feel, but most of the time the way I feel is irrational and extremely intense.  I want to burn down the world and the barn and throw the baby out with the bath.  I need greatly to pillage and destroy.  I am not sure why.

I have lots of problems.  I do not talk about them.  I am my road block.  I hate everything.  I love everything.  I do not want to have to talk about how I feel.  I never want to talk about feelings.  I wish I didn’t have any feelings.  I want people to just know that there are these feelings around me like orbits and if you get in their way, you are their victim.

I just want people to know how I am feeling.  Or that I am feeling.  Why can’t I just psychically let everyone know these things?  This desire is totally self-defeating.

I am always lying and insisting I am happy.  I am not.  I am just sort of there.

I go home and sit in silence cause there I am happiest.  I need more silence.  I need to drown out the world.

I am a bad person in a good way.  I am still a bad person.  I should probably work on these things but I won’t because in a way, the flawed person that I am is special.

And if I have to pick something to work on, it’s not going to be a personality defect but my writing.  So here we are.

This is my first blog of 2012.  This is my first blog the year the world ends.  I can’t wait for the world to end. 

If the world doesn’t end I am going to be very, very pissed off.

My sister says I should sleep with my married boyfriend.  I find this to be very conflicting.  She says that it’s a new age and that social stigmas don’t even matter.  I am not sure the social stigmas bother me nearly as much as the fact that he gets to go home to his wife.

His wife hates me.

I went to a party at their house where this man with a very white-grey beard followed me around and Married Boyfriend would catch my eye and wink at me.

His wife would also catch my eye and look at me like she hated every particle of my composition, which is hilarious since she’s an artist and I am a continuous work in progress.

Maybe I will start sleeping with my married boyfriend.  Maybe.

Erin says I should not start sleeping with him because I would just end up his fulltime mistress and who wants to do that?  But who wants to get married and enter into white lady slavery?  I dunno how I feel about that.  My whole life I never really thought I would get married because I do not like having to feel obligated to comply to someone else.

But then Married Boyfriend says something like, “You need to be taken care of and told what to do, all at the same time,” but he’s right and I hate that he’s right but he’s just right.

Maybe.  Married Boyfriend.  Maybe.

It wouldn’t even be the dumbest thing I have done in a while, if it’s even dumb.  I got my DUI finally.  In a way it was really awesome because I got to get handcuffed and I treated my mugshot like getting a photoshoot and when they weighed me, I hadn’t eaten in close to a week and I was the thinnest I have ever been in my adult life.

When the cop told me my weight I exclaimed, “This is the best day of my life, I have achieved my goal weight.”

Their jaws dropped.  I did not get put into the drunk tank cause they hated me.  They hated me so much that they put me with the prostitutes, which was even more awesome because the big black prostitute who was in charge was like, “GLASSES, WAKE UP GLASSES.  DEY CALLING YOU.” 

And the really young prostitute who couldn’t have been older than 19, maybe, cried and cried and I held her in my arms and told her it would be ok.

“I’m not a prostitute.  I was just on the corner with me friend who’s a prostitute.”

“It’s ok, I’m not a degenerate drunk that just wanted to get out of a bad date so I said I could drive.  And I didn’t crash into a parked car.”

She cried harder.

I don’t know what it is about me or this life, but anything that seems seedy or unacceptable to common society, I am endlessly attracted to it. 

I just want to hang out with degenerate old men, drink hard, talk to prostitutes and watch fights and I want to do it all the time. 

I never want to be in an office.  I never want to have to be up in the morning.  I just want to be young and wild forever.  But I won’t. 

I can’t wait for the world to end so it can clean up my whole mess for me.

Man, this time of year must be hard on a lot of people and it sucks.  I have never really put much weight in it.  Christmas is the same thing as the Fourth of July, just colder and therefore lamer.  But man, in the past two weeks it’s been raining ex-boyfriends in a crazy way.  The first was at the end of November, one of the first men I ever dated who had like a life and a career and a home spotted me walking down Gower on my way to Trader Joe’s.  I had my headphones on and did not notice that he was trying to get my attention.  He found my e-mail that evening and sent me a long message that end with, we should totally hangout.  We shouldn’t.

Next was Sex King, he said he might come down to LA in the next few weeks and wondered what I was up to.  What I am up to is trying not to succumb to his amazing sexual prowess.  If he comes to LA I am running away, even though I probably shouldn’t.

After that was the painter/photographer, we had a really sordid affair because I met him as he was leaving LA but we have always been friendly.  He just wanted me to know he would be in Hollywood for Christmas, we should get drinks.  I can’t disagree with this, he is awesome.

Shortly after I thought about playing with my painter in the bottom of a glass of bourbon, I received a text from a guy I dated who still likes to tell me we will end up together.  We will never end up together.  He told me I should come with him to see his parents and I proclaimed that to be, quite possibly, the worst idea of all time.  Then he told me to come to a party.  I am probably heading to that party.

But then one of the guys I toyed with a whole bunch earlier this year saw me online today and sent me an Instant Message.  “We should get drinks?  Where are you living now?  Are you happy?”  Really, what difference does it make?  I am free Tuesday.  Take it or leave it.  So Tuesday, I have plans with him.

And then there’s Married Boyfriend, who is consistently making plans for him and I, that I more often than not, have to find ways to get out of, even though I don’t want to.  His wife’s having a gallery exhibition on the Westside and he wants me to be there.  So I’ll be there but first I have to find a couth, cunning & awesome fellow to accompany me.  The last time I went to one of their events solo, it was like a tragic nightmare of people trying to figure out what the implied intimacy between him and I was.  And it wasn’t sex I can guarantee you that, which made whatever is between us, so much more threatening to his wife.

And there’s still 10 more days till Christmas, so I can’t see who decides to poke their head up and into the Sabrina-o-sphere.  Cause I know there’s a whole bunch more I’d like to see and even more I’d like to turn down for eternity.

Holy shit, are men seriously the dumbest creatures on the fucking planet?  I sometimes think they are.  Like, I am forward thinking and independent.  I get shit done.  And I honestly understand how dating works. 

You go out with someone.  You hangout a few times.  You bang.  You hangout with someone else maybe you bang them too, maybe not.  And you can do it like this forever, weaving a braid out of the people you have been with, will be with and people you’ll never want to be with again.

That being said, why is it so shocking that maybe I would be dating multiple people?  And moreover, how can you think I wouldn’t assume you’re doing the same thing.  Cause I know you are.  In fact, unless you do that thing where you sit me down and are like, “We are exclusive.” I will assume everyone is just out and doing whatever they want, cause why wouldn’t I?

The thing is, this is exactly what everyone is doing but no one wants to admit it and I think it’s the dumbest thing in the universe.  Do men think that I am going to seriously believe that they are not seeing anyone else?  And then assume that I should give a shit in the case that it comes up?  Cause I’m not.  I’ll be annoyed that you crossed your streams because the cardinal rule is never to bring up your other bitches in any way.  Ever.

That is called respect.  And I don’t have any for any one man so even though I am dating someone I am going to keep writing and tweeting and facebooking all the shit I am up to because I honestly do not give a fuck if someone’s pride is hurt.  If I really liked them, I wouldn’t be out all night prowling.  If I really liked them there wouldn’t be any point in this post.

Every year on my birthday I wake up and then I probably get back in bed and sleep for a couple more house. Then I wake up and blast “Mother’s Little Helpers” by the Rolling Stones to highlight that I am getting old.

Usually I do it in panties and a t-shirt and knee socks and I dance around and jump on the bed and just enjoy my moment.

Every year the same thing. Every year getting older.

I don’t feel older. If anything, I feel younger, dumber and more irresponsible. It’s almost as if I am going back in time and by the time I am officially a senior citizen I will be a full fledged emotional and psychological paramecium brain.

But I like the thought of that because you’re supposed to fall apart. My body is already doing that. When I want to be depressed, I just think how terribly crippled I’ll be by the time I’m 50 and then I go out and slay a bunch of men like I am the last knight in a battle of the ages.

Slaying men might be the only thing that placates me anymore. Which is weird and sad. Sometimes I really have to wonder if I am in it for the prize of eternal (or whatever people call it) companionship or if I really am ok floating around and experiencing as many people and problems as possible.

And every time I sit down to write one of my exploits, a news story or even an interview I think about how boring life could be and I have my answer.