Chapter 3

Wrote this the other night out on an inspired whim (: might add more later!

In Good Company

The concept of sexual promescuity has always escaped me; however, I’d have to throw myself under the bus and say that I am egregiously guilty of emotional promescuity. If you don’t follow, its completely understandable. My mind is a little bit of a labyrinth, superimposing random concepts together in a way that seem logical and sequiter to myself, but often not to people like my English Professors. For as long as I can remember I’ve been a bit of a self rightous space cadet, threading arbitrary trains of thought which culminate in what I like to think of as an epic epiphany. My apologies for the tangent, but it explains my dizzing logic a little. However, in digression: I am guilty of the heinous crime of fraudulent falacious feeling (I hope you’re loving the alliteration) It’s not that I go up to random men and act like a glib barbie doll, casting a web of insidious charm around them- though ostensibly I am quite the “Irrestistable Temptress” Don’t laugh, it’s actually been thrown around. But I do absent mindedly flirt with my masculine friends and may uninentionally without fail give them the wrong impression. The song, Why Can’t We Be Friends? is constantly on my mind. Yes, I kiss people that I don’t care about in that way, and it can be fun, and no I have no intention of dating them and yes sometimes their hearts are broken. I salvage my conscience slightly because I am 100 percent honest the entire time that I don’t want a relationship right then; however; thats stopped helping me get to sleep at night because its still not right. Ideally, no kind of physical relationship would exist between me and someone I did not have incredibly strong feelings for- someone I could not see myself dating and marrying. Alas, the hormones, Awkward. Now I’m still the same old me, waiting for PC (Prince Charming) and all that jazz, but I met someone at college, and he was a hottie. He was a little swarthy for my particular taste, but still smoking. We had a couple sleepovers, completely PG, scouts honour! (We played bubble shooter and watched Disney movies) but he wasn’t my boyfriend and I didn’t think I could see myself dating him. He’s a gigantic hormone and started sleeping with this Random after I said, for the third time, that I just wanted to be friends. Not to reference to Gatsby too heavily, but he was the equivalence of my Jordan Baker, sexes being reversed of course. We’re still friends, but it made me see how toying with the emotions of people around me, even unintentionally so, can harm them. I think I did hurt him, and I didn’t realize it until 4 “I think we should just be friends” later. My sincerest apologies Jordan. Then it struck me, kind of like lightening but evidently less morbid: How can love and lust not hold the same company? It was/it beyond me. Yes I could kiss someone and not care, but I still felt terribly guilty and even a bit skanky- how does that whole one night stand thing not tear people apart from the inside out? It sure would me. Personally, I blame society, or lack there of good society. Oh where, oh where has the moral fortitude gone? Utterly spent and wasted on a deafened generation who participates in casual sex as if it was musical chairs. Good analogy. This was one of the many things I discussed with my Armory Blaine, the role of sex in society: our illustrious small talk. We’re both introverts so I suppose it is understandable, discussing the weather is frightening by comparison. Anyway, we came to the brilliant conclusion that society albeit media induced, was so obsessed with sex that it became nothing. Where I come from, its suppose to be special- preferably something you do when you’re married. Contemporarily, its because as common-place as brushing your teeth. Its everything so much, that its nothing. Actually, this reminds me of a quote from the movie the incredibles “Everyone is special is just another way of saying no one is” same logic applies here. If everyone is having it, unbounded by any statue of limitations, it takes the meaning away. For example if a man or a woman was to have an intimate long-term relationship with someone, it ends after say four year and they automatically go out and have some kind of instantly gratifying romp, it steals the meaning and crushes the vulnerable moments that were shared with the person whom you claimed to love. Sad. It’s also setting the stage for bitterness and dilapitated meaning in future physical relationships. I don’t understand how people can walk around having chunks taken out of them like that, cause it does, everytime it takes a part of you that you can never get back- and thats why there are so many cat ladies. Each cat fixes the hole a little bit?