In Response… July 3, 2006

In response to the comments I’ve been recieving:

Stephanie–I get an HIV test every 6 months. Everyone should. If I sleep with one boy or twelve, it is my responsibility to myself and my sexual partners to be sure of my health. Why aren’t you getting an HIV test every 6 months, Stephanie? Getting tested doesn’t mean you’re a slut or even that you are infected. It’s the responsible thing to do. I would encourage everyone to get tested as often as possible. There’s no harm in knowing you’re OK.

Peta--I have a fine self-esteem. I love myself better than anyone else. Having occasional moments of self-doubt is normal and healthy. I wouldn’t want to meet the egotistical bitch who thinks she’s perfect all the time. Through the process of writing in a stream of conciousness fashion, I dispell doubtful thoughts from my mind. Once they are out, they can’t hurt me anymore. It’s not that I have low self-esteem, its that I’m human, and I operate on a binge/purge system of mental health. Thank you for the self-help book anyways. It’s a very kind gesture.

Readers-At-Large: The last two months of my life are rather out-of-the-ordinary for me. It’s not my habit of getting involved with almost-married-men, or having one-night stands with dubiously straight actors. I only ever sleep with one man at a time. Bo and I haven’t had sex in two months. Kyle and I had sex four times over the course of five weeks. All that is done now. My blog may portray me as over-sexed, but in reality, I’m not actually getting that much.

Stephanie Again: Despite the personal situation between me and Kyle, the fact remains that we are passionate about this business. That isn’t a question and it’s not something I want to get out of. Don’t ‘I told you so’ at me–this is my project, my baby for goodness sakes! I can bitch and carry on about how Kyle betrayed me personally all I want, but don’t think for one second that I’m not devoted to our partnership. Men come and go, but business is business. If I could, I’d invest my $5K again tomorrow. Stop thinking of me like a child–as emotional as I can be, I am careful about my money. This is still a great investment and has incredible potential for success.

Everyone Else: This is my private blog space. It’s not a forum to discuss how fucked up I am, or even a place to express your opinions. It’s for me! I let you read it because you few are the ones that I consider friends. Don’t abuse the privelege or I will take my writing elsewhere and not give you the address.

Venting July 1, 2006

I hate that Bossman keeps showing up at work. Worse–he’s showing up to see another girl. Not me or my co-workers, her. After three months, I thought we were friends. All of us, a group of friends, but he doesn’t care about us now, he just cares about her. He doesn’t care about me anymore. I’m just the girl he wanted to fuck, but she’s a girl he actually cares about.

I like her. I hate him.

When he’s not around, I really don’t think about him that much. Life goes on and I keep busy, but it hurts me to see him now. Just a week ago he told me he ‘really liked dani’. My eyes must’ve looked teary because he started saying: I never wanted to hurt you. Words don’t mean anything to me–he hurt me–i am hurt. I don’t care about his fiance, I knew the deal from the beginning, but somewhere along the way I began to believe that he was cheating on her with me, because he kind of liked me. Now it looks like he is cheating on her, to cheat. With whoever! Not only I am NOT special, I am easily disposable. We are disposable–our friendship.

He didn’t mean to hurt me. HE HURT ME! ‘Meant to’ has nothing to do with it. I’m hurt, damn it.

As usual, when I’m upset, the walls go up. A wall for every boy who’s ever hurt me. Every boy who’s ever said: I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I like someone else. Walls as far back as 7th grade. 

PAYUM: standing on the steps of the library the morning after I caught him having sex with another girl. “Don’t be hurt, but I’m cutting my summer flings. I’ve found a girl I really want to date”.

JAMES: Amanda, I love you, but I’m marrying another girl in January.

NATE: you’re not enough for me.

I freeze up. At the very moment that history repeats itself–at the very utterance of another girl’s name–my eyes change. It’s not my fault, I’ve always had a very expresive face, and I can’t help but let the world see what I’m feeling. If you looked, you’d see the walls–the concrete distance I create between me and him. Pushing him out of my life. LEAVE ME ALONE, I HATE YOU, GET AWAY FROM ME!

Don’t be upset, he says, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

My first response: I’m not hurt, I’m fine. I suck it up and shake it off. I say: You could never hurt me, you’re not that special! You will never hurt me, because I will feel nothing for you. As time passes, I have time to recover from the shock and digest what really happened. the walls get thicker and higher, and after a week I can’t see you at all. Hurt? Me? Over you?

Whatever.

I dare you to hurt me. Try. You’ll never be my friend again, you’ll never have my trust.

I trusted you, I thought you cared about me. You did, but not the way I guess I wanted you to. In the end, it means, i don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to pretend things are cool, like nothing ever happened. I saw how you looked at me, it wasn’t just sex. Go away, please. Give me some space so I can build some more walls, and cage myself in, from predators like you.

Hurt me? You could never hurt me, because to me, you are nothing. You are vile, indecent, and loathsome. Go hang out with your new mistress, because your old mistress is disgusted by you.

Be careful not to hurt her though. We both know you never intend to leave your fiance. We both know that you’re greedy. You can’t start a relationship with someone else when you’re taken–that in itself says that YOU MEAN TO HURT THEM!

Don’t say you didn’t, you’re not a fool. I knew it was wrong when I did it, but I had little to lose. This is YOUR future you’re messing with. If your fiance is your whole life, then let her be enough for you. Stop looking for other girls. YOU MEAN TO HURT THIS GIRL, JUST LIKE YOU MEANT TO HURT ME.

If you say it was just sex between us, you’re a liar. You’re a liar regardless. Don’t talk to me until September, when we have to work together again. I need some time to forget and forgive what happened between us. I love this magazine, and I love the way we work together, but I don’t love you. I don’t love how you took me for granted.

I’m a very passionate person, and I get carried away sometimes. I am young, and trying to figure a lot of myself out.

I thought we were friends. Good friends. I thought you really cared about me. But I don’t care about you now. I told you three weeks ago that we couldn’t have sex anymore because I was starting to like you. You wouldn’t stop–every day you’d flirt with me.

You’d put your hand up my skirt, in the rare moments we were alone in the office! Don’t pretend it never happened. You prevoked me because you knew I liked you. You used my emotions to get what you wanted from me: sex. Friends don’t do that. Friends don’t take advantage of other friends vulnerabilities.

Who else were you doing this to? How many other girls in the office were you fucking in the massage room? You fucking jerk-off! I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE YOU!!! If I didn’t care about this magazine so much–if I didn’t dream about it every night, and plan for it every day–if I didn’t love it so much, and want so much for it to be successful, I’d never talk to you again.

Get the fuck out of my office and out of my face. We are no longer friends. My friends don’t hurt or use me. I can’t think of a more disrespectful thing you could do, than flaunt another co-worker in my face, and tell me: I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Re-Inveting Amanda June 29, 2006

Daniel says I need to re-invent myself. I should stop obsessing over small things that I have no control over, and stop being so dramatic all the time. He says, not me. He’s right, I’m wrong, as usual.

Kyle’s a jerk, I don’t even want to be friends really. The magazine is what matters to me, but otherwise, I really don’t care what he does or who he fucks. He wants to fuck a girl I work with. She’s a sweetie and has a live-in boyfriend, but that doesn’t deter him. He has a live-in fiance asfterall. What a pig.

Tomorrow, Adrian is taking me for an HIV test before work. This way I can stop my nightmares and move on with life. The Park Avenue guy came by work today and asked me out for next friday night. I said yes, but I plan on cancelling next week. He doesn’t want anything serious with me, and I’m sick of being filler until he finds a girl he wants to marry.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am still a first choice girl.

Bo’s a sweetheart, but he’s not in a plce to date me right now. Our schedules conflict so we can never go on dates, and he’s going to Spain in two months to film a movie until early next year. Such is the problem with dating actors…they leave before things have a chance to really develop. Besides, I’m still not totally convinced that he’s straight.

In other news, I plan on being a recluse for the remainder of summer. There are books I want to read, and countless museums and shows I must attend. Plus–my magazine is out in September, and I need to prepare mentally.

I think I’m going to subscribe to the Village Voice. It’s the closest I can get myself to reading real news.

I Heart Bo June 25, 2006

Emotionally, its been a rough week. The highs were high and the lows were low, but never as low as last night. Several nights this week I had nightmares. Horrible detailed dreams, about things I wish not discuss. Towards the end of the week, I’d wake up shaking and clenched. I have a cut on my inner bottom lip, from biting nervously in my sleep. Last night I was terrified to go to sleep alone.

Although I was totally exhausted, my terror kept me awake. Thank God for Bo. (The Actor). I texted him to come sleep over because I was afraid, and he left a party and come right away. When he got there he knew I was upset, and although I didn’t want to talk about it, he carried me over to my bed, put his arm around me, and made me talk.

Except I didn’t talk. I just cried. I cried and cried, for no exact reason, and the only words I could get out was: nobody here cares about me.

Bo was so sweet to me. He told me that I was ridiculous because everyone who meets me cares about me. He told me that I’m a person that people can’t help but love. ‘your girls at work care about you–your next door nieghbour cares about you–and so does your friend tim. The only people that don’t care about you are these douches that you insist on dating, excluding me, of course, because I care about you a lot.’

And then he made me laugh and told me that I look cute when I cry, when I announced that I looked like a wreck. So for the rest of the night, he slept with his arms around me in case I had a bad dream. Do you see what I mean when I feel safe with Bo? I’m really amazed that I have such horrible taste in men I date, and such supreme luck in one-night-stands. I don’t know if we could ever be anything serious–especially since he knows all my secrets–but I’m definately glad I have him as my friend in New York.

Massage Room Romp June 23, 2006

In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve made 8 sales, ended my weekend romance with the millionaire, hung out with Nate, and resumed having sex with Bossman. sex in the massage room during work, to be specific.

Every girl deserves a ‘promisucous’ phase, don’t you think? It’s hard for me to rationalize why I’m doing all that I’m doing these days, but maybe it’s that simple. I just need to get it out of my system.

Tim has a theory about men and marriage. Women don’t make men want to get married, men get to a point in their lives when they decide marriage is the next logical step, and they marry whoever they are with. It’s not particularly romantic, but I think it bears some merrit.

Today, Kyle and I snuck away from work to have a drink around 2:30PM. We called it ‘team outreach’ and escaped watchful eyes for an hour. I asked him to tell me the story of him and his fiance. How they met, why he loves her, all that good stuff. He said that the week before she accepted a date with him, he was sleeping with four different women, but one night he was sitting at a bar, having a beer, and it occured to him: he was all alone in the world. He could’ve called any of those girls for sex, but he couldn’t call any of them to just hang out.

The next week he went out with the girl, five months later they moved in together, and three weeks after that, they were engaged. Boom. He was ready, she was there, they lived happily ever after…

except for the fact that he’s still fucking me, of course. details.

since all of our co-workers called in sick today, we had the place to ourselves. i told the receptionist to call me if any clients came in, and we ran upstairs to get down. well…just when things started heating up, my cell phone began rining off the hook. damn it–a customer came in! I left kyle on the table, half covered in body lotion and more than half undressed, and ran downstairs to answer the misguided love attempts of a client who wanted to buy her full-corporate boyfriend a membership. silly girl. he gets it practically free through his company. back to business!

flash-forward a bit: me, half on the table and taking it from behind, when my phone rings again.

Receptionist: Amanda, a girl wants to buy a gift certificate. (when you read the lines of the receptionist, imagine a girl with michael jackson’s last seen nose job, and a high squeaky voice. did i mention her first language isn’t english?)

Me (searching for my underwear and wiping my legs with a towel): tell her to come back tomorrow! I’m busy.

Receptionist: Amanda, a gift certificate? How I sell that? You coming down?

Me: No…I’m busy…I can’t talk…tell her to go away.

Receptionist: you coming down now?

ME: NOOOO!!!! COME BACK TOMORROW!!! I AM BUSY!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I HAVE TO GO!!!

Receptionist: OK, I tell her come back tomorrow?

Me: Click.

I asked Kyle a little later if he liked me when we first met–you know–before he was engaged. he said, i like you a lot more now. i thought you were really cute then, but now i know you as a person, and its a lot better. I tell him all the time that I don’t think they’ll get married. He doesn’t totally think so either. The date is set for next september, but a lot can happen before then. anyhow, it looks like tim’s theory might be right. In that case, I need to get my timing straight.

Safety May 27, 2006

I have a slight crush on the actor. It’s not an all-consuming, must-be-near-him, type of feeling, although I enjoy hanging out. We are comfortable around each other. We have things in common. It’s wierd. We don’t even have sex anymore. Just foreplay. It’s good enough.

More importantly, I’m totally honest with him. Without hesitation, I tell him private and sometimes nasty things about myself. He knows that little things make me throw up. He knows about the HPV and potential cervical cancer, that so alarmed Nate. I told him from the beginning and it was never an issue. (As it shouldn’t be, it can’t hurt him). He knows about me and my boss, and he knew I had lunch with Nate on Thursday.

The thing is, he treats me so well. SOOO well. He’s really a darling to me. But it’s not earth-moving, which is probably a good thing. If I had to go back to Jamaica, I would not be upset leaving him. Does that mean I don’t like him, or I don’t appreciate him? It feels luke warm and convienient, but at the same time, I really like hanging out.

You know what? It feels like an old relationship. Something worn in and weathered, years ago, so that now we can be open and have a good time.

He’s gone away for the weekend. I’m sure I’ll hear from him when he gets back. Not that I’m worried. I know he’ll call. Maybe that’s why I feel so relaxed…he gives me this stability without any expectation of committment. He knows I am dating other guys. He lets me know that he’s only dating me, although he’s open to dating other girls. This feels so safe to me. Safe enough to give it up.

Sick May 23, 2006

I’ve done it now. I’ve really fucking done it. He has a fiance–i met her–she’s a nice girl. He is my boss until Friday and more importantly, my friend. How could I have been so stupid, how could I have fucked him?

I mean, Oh my goodness, what am I doing? I am so fucked up. He is so fucked up. We are both fucked.

All the time I say that I’m a first choice girl, I’m a girl that deserves more. What the hell do I deserve for doing something like this? I feel sick to my stomach.

Couple May 20, 2006

It was so ordinary…so nonchalant…you would’ve never noticed anything had even happened between us…besides the half-faded hickeys on my neck. So ninth grade.

He sat with his girlfriend-as a couple-and we showed up drunk–the women from work. Them and us, seperated by a table. He kissed her in public, in front of me, like it wouldn’t matter. (And it didn’t, I felt nothing for him). He barely talked to me, and when he did, it was about the office. He was with the wifey and I was nothing.

I don’t like him, nor do I want him to like me, but it left me wondering about men and PDA. Not even two nights ago he was kissing me…throwing me down on my living room floor and tearing my clothes off my body…and now…he’s kissing her cheek. Same lips that made my neck turn red, on her.

DISGUSTING.

Is this what men do? Cheat and make up for it by bringing the girl and the mistress together, for a reaffirming PDA session? She’s the girl I love–look–I’m proving it right now. Oh please–like I would’ve ever touched you if I were in my right state of mind. Honestly!

He was the one that wanted to have sex with me. I didn’t let him–I THREW HIM OUT! What is this? How am I supposed to trust a man who kisses me in public again? Or a man that claims to be working late and out ‘with the boys’?

He isn’t with the boys–he’s with me you poor girl.

WHATEV–I’m over it. OVER MEN ALL TOGETHER. Being single when all your friends are married, engaged, or pregnant is one sad place sometimes…but being with a man (a horrible, untrustworthy man!)…is not where I’d rather be.

Scandlous May 18, 2006

I got back into bed yesturday morning, depressed. My job interview was horrible and my numbers at work are bad. The actor came out of the closet over myspace.com, meaning that I’d turned ANOTHER one gay. I picked up the phone and called into work depressed. Speaking to my boss did not seem like an option so instead, i left a message. He called back.

Me: Kyle, I’m not coming into work, I’m too depressed.
Kyle: Amanda, stop being so melo-dramatic and get your ass into work. we’re having a one day sale.
Me: i don’t care. i’m depressed and I’m never leaving this bed again.

click.

5 mins later…

Me: what’s the sale?
Kyle: no initiation, ten dollars off monthly dues.
Me: fuck. fine. i’ll be there in ten.

click.

Explaining that I turned another one gay was the only way to keep him off my back when I got to work, so I did. That sent the office into shrieks and histerics and for the rest of the day, I recieved pitying looks and reassurances of my feminine abilities. (Not the mention offers of straight sex–but that’s the norm at my job).

By the evening I couldn’t take it anymore. How could he come out of the closet over myspace.com and not have the decency to tell the girl he’s sleeping with? I texted him.

Me: So…r u gay now?
Him: my ex broke into my myspace and voicemail and changed the passwords so she could claim I’m gay…I’m dealing witht he authorities right now.

Oh. SO he’s not gay then? I’m unconvinced.

Aroung 8PM, Kyle offers to buy me a drink. it was a day that deserved a drink. well…one drink became two…two became three…the bartender started comping me mixed drinks…yadda yadda…i was drunk. I texted the actor again.

Me: i’m drunk have sex with me
Him: sorry, i’m at work. come by.

After much pleading, I get Kyle to agree to come with me to the bar to see him. I need some reinforcement and a shoulder to lean on while crossing the street. I realize: the actor is sweet, but he doesn’t care about me. Meanwhile, Kyle and I are flirting…we’re drunk…we leave.

On the walk uptown he kisses me. Whoa! He is my boss and he is engaged. He should not be kissing me. I kiss him back.

Then we’re in a taxi. Then we’re in the elevator going up to my apartment. Shit! Shit! SHIT!

Clothes come off, lights don’t turn on,,,we can’t do this, we can’t do this…

Finally, somewhere on the living room floor I stopped it. We didn’t have sex. I chased my boss out my apartment and back to his poor unsuspecting fiance. No no…even when I’m drunk, I am still a first choice girl! damnit!

Even if I turn men gay, I am still a first choice girl!

Fuck, I have to go to work now. Maybe I will take some time off and go to Jamaica…I need a break from all these fucking scandalous men.

Weekend Bliss May 16, 2006

There were so many parts about this weekend that I loved. There’s that night when Daniel and I bought a bum a hot dog and in return he gave me a love poem, which I read aloud on the streets of the west village at 3AM. Then there’s the time we danced in an empty bar until the lights came up and they started playing ‘closing time’. And the happy meals that followed at sunrise…oh friday night…

oh yea…and how about the afternoon we spent at MOMA getting lost in phallic symbology and art that causes headaches? And the evening at Butter that made everyone inolved feel a little sick? And who could forget chuck norris? and R Kelly? LOL.

and what about Puno? I love Puno. I love Puno because Daniel loves Puno and also because its impossible not to love her. In fact, Daniel went back to LA today and his beloved is staying with me until Thursday!

When he left this morning, Puno said to me: that boy really loves you! I’ve never seen him treat a girl like he treats you. I was thinking the same thing about her. What lucky girls we are to love this boy who loves us so well. What a lucky boy he is to have such girls swooning over him in the wee hours of the morning.

To make matters even more interesting, Nate called at midnight on Friday night to chat. I was in a cab headed to a party downtown and he was sitting home, thinking about me. Oh nate…you are so over in my mind.

And the actor texted me on sunday…he likes me…he really likes me….lol!