Rules and regulations

This past weekend I met a very sexy couple at my friend B’s house. The couple, so obviously in love with one another, instantly intrigued me. At the same time, I felt a strange attraction to the man…a mutual attraction. I thought it must have just been my imagination since his girlfriend was sitting right there, in the same room, at the same table. So surely it was my lack of attention lately and desire to have a connection with someone taking over my senses. We headed out to a club and continued our conversations and I was still feeling this from him...surely I wasn't making it up. But the night continued with nothing but innocent conversation and then we parted ways.

The next day B and I were walking to pick up Thai food and I mentioned how much I liked his friends. I continued to comment on how beautiful the girlfriend was and how sexy I thought he was. B then tells me that they're into orgies, actual, live, REAL orgies, and it all made sense, maybe I wasn't imagining the attraction. Since I have never met people like this that I was aware of, I inquired further about these orgies that they participated in and it turns out they have rules. Apparently, the couple can only have sex with one another, no one else. Fine. That seems obvious. But there’s more. The two that were joining them in the orgy can only perform oral sex to them, not to one another and will not receive it either. So basically, it’s all about them and only them. My question is, what’s in it for the joining couple? They have to do all the work and not get any kind of reward. That just doesn’t seem right. But who am I to talk. I can't even get sex with just one person, let alone a whole other couple. They're having so much sex, they can actually make RULES. My only rule is to wait until a commercial comes on to make another trip to the refridgerator.

And I wonder why I'm not having sex.

I-93

During the morning commute in Boston today a woman hit the guard rail and then bounced off head-first into a truck. She died instantly. As a result, there was a 2-hour backup that grew into a 4-hour delay for commuters (there was even traffic in Providence because of it). Stuck in the traffic jam was a woman on her way to the hospital to give birth. Only she didn't get there in time and gave birth in her car with the police assisting. Before the sun was even up, the cycle of life was present on a highway in Boston, masked by the traffic of our daily commute.

Advice for future Thanksgivings

To get out of post-meal clean-up, find the closest cutest baby to cuddle and make them fall asleep on your shoulder. Then proceed to claim, “Oh, I’m so sorry I can’t help, but he JUST fell asleep. Bummer.” It sooooo works.

To trust or not to trust

I had a really interesting discussion with a friend of a friend this past weekend. I knew that he lived in New York City and was intrigued by this, having not known too many that live in NYC. We were left alone while our friends were getting some drinks and to avoid the silence with new acquaintances that I despise*, I asked him how he liked New York. He loves it. He continued by saying that as a result of living there for so long, he trusts no one. He likes this about himself and actually thinks it’s a sign that he’s matured. I was astonished; I wondered how it was that he could go through life trusting no one. I’m just the opposite - I trust everyone, even those that I know I shouldn’t. I’ve always thought of this as a positive attribute that I have, that it was important to trust and was a sign of good character. He disagreed completely. Perhaps even hinting that it was a completely ignorant way to think. After moving to New York from Rhode Island, at first he was completely green, open to all the new experiences and cultural opportunities NYC had to offer an innocent soul such as himself. Then he got screwed over, then screwed over again and again until he realized unless he started screwing people back, that he would not survive in the city. Then began the distrust for every being he came into contact with. Even friends were not to be trusted. However, he was careful to point out that there were a few select few that had earned his trust and that he loves deeply because of it. I started thinking that maybe I have been slightly ignorant, blinded by the hope that I hold that the majority of human beings actually are genuine and kind. I’ve always felt I should trust people until they prove otherwise. The part of my life that I am most aware that this train of thought is not working for me has been in my relationships with men. But I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. I mean, don’t they deserve that as fellow humans?

I'm starting to think that perhaps the people in New York City are not as cool as I once thought they were. Sure, they are fashionably dressed, have great careers and excellent social lives that completely put mine to shame (then again, a squirrels life probably puts mine to shame). But what is the point if they live their daily lives not trusting anyone? It seems cold and uncaring. And why would I want to be your friend if you’re not going to trust me, if I have to take measures just to prove to you that I can be trusted and worthy of your friendship? Please. I was actually hanging out with a guy recently who grew up in New York and has recently moved here and that was one of the things he said to me that I could not forget. He said he trusted no one. Not even me. I was insulted. I had done nothing to him to make him distrust me and was not planning on it. (With him, though, it turns out that was just the beginning. I’ll embellish further in a later post.) It was such a turn-off to already not be trusted.

So my question is…am I being naïve? Is this something I haven’t been clued in on until now? Should I stop trusting people? Should I actually get off the couch and work on my social life?


(*I try my hardest to be comfortable with silence. Sometimes I succeed. But those who say that it’s a result of lack of self-confidence that causes one to dislike silences is full of shit. I consider myself to be quite the confident individual; I would just rather not sit there feeling the energy of another human being just inches away with the silence between us just pounding pounding pounding, causing me to want to scream at the very next second that we sit there with no words exchanged. It has more to do with my lack of ability to shut up than self-confidence. )

A new kind of lover.

Sometimes you come across a musician, just a note or a word sung, that penetrates throughout your entire body. For all of my life, music has always played an active role. My mom takes full credit for it by saying it’s because she taught an aerobics class daily with loud music blaring in the background until she was 7 months pregnant with me. I might disagree, though, because if that were the case I’d probably be really into Olivia Newton John or Linda Ronstadt. One of my first music memories is that of my dad dancing in our living room. He’d put on Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock & Roll” on the record player, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot to the beat. I’d be dancing right next to him, singing, “Just take those old records off the shelf…” To this day my dad and I continue to share this musical bond, and neither of us can carry a tune or play a single note. I’ll introduce him to new music; he’ll ask me if I’ve heard the latest young soul whose obvious inspiration was Bob Dylan or John Lennon. I love this about my dad.

Lately I’ve been in a buying-new-music-rage that I blame completely and exclusively on iTunes. iTunes is the greatest invention since the Internet came into our lives. I mean, with a click of the button, you have an entire new album for your listening pleasure. And for only 9.99, I can fully justify buy a new album every couple of weeks. It’s not below me to eat Ramen noodles while I listen to my newest musical talent…it’s all about sacrifice. I think before my discovery of iTunes, I probably went months at a time without any new music. How I am still alive today to write this blog I do not know.

This morning on my way to work I was listening to my most recent discovery, Ray LaMontagne. He is brilliant. His song “Hannah” from his debut album, Trouble, causes me to break down in tears every time I listen to it. Not solely because of the words, but because it is that beautiful. To feel as if your entire body is being touched by the sound of a voice, touched almost to an orgasmic level, makes waking up every day bearable. It makes me want to put it on repeat and ignore the fact I am stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic before I’ve even finished my coffee. So if you drive by me sitting in my car on the side of the highway in tears not from an accident or flat tire…I’ll be ok. I’ll eventually take repeat off and continue on about my day in the after-glow of Ray LaMontagne. Now if only we were allowed the pleasure of putting our lovers on repeat and shutting them off by the touch of button when we had had enough…life would be near perfect.

I was caught

Caught in the act of the stare. I walk up and down these streets daily just to look at the individuals I pass. And this is the best part of town to do so, what with the Art school right around the corner and the Ivy League school feet away. And I'm not just a quick-glancer type of gal, I stare. Yesterday I saw a Dark-Rimmed-Glasses guy that I fantasize about daily, maybe hourly, and luckily he missed my stare. But his friend did not. NOOooo. Not only did his friend witness my stare, I actually overheard him say, "Dude. That girl was just totally staring at you." Me. He blew my cover. Although, I'll admit, an obvious and very apparent cover. But still. Dude! Don't admit that to your friend! I just couldn't tear myself away from those crystal green-blue eyes behind the sexy artsy dark-rimmed-glasses! DUDE!