Tomorrow the first

Tomorrow will be the first day of the worst year of my life.

I'm reading all these blogs filled with resolutions, highights, things to look forward to. I haven't read a single blog dreading the new year. Allow me to be the first.

I've mentioned all the reasons in some way before, but for those just now tuning I'll recap.

January 2007, I will start my last semester in the lecture hall. It's great because I hate memorizing all this medical stuff I most likely will never have to know after June 2007. It's bad because this is the majority of the material to know for the USMLE step 1.

That brings me to Step 1, the most important exam of my life. The exam that determines my future, possibly my happiness. The exam that might destroy my ego and take down my self-worth and confidence for kicks as well. I will take the exam on June 15th, 2007. I received my prep books from Kaplan back in August. Amazon JUST shipped the 2007 version of First Aid to me.

Once the exam is over, I go straight into the hospital where I am everyone's bitch, the bottom of the totem pole. Nurses will own me. I'll be on call. If I show up to work at 4am with alcohol on my breath, I'll have to sleep with the chief resident to make sure I don't get in trouble. There are no McDreamy doctors. TV lies to us.

Did I mention I'm dating a great guy? Yeah RedSox... you've read all about him. Thanks to him, I haven't thought about another guy. I haven't wanted to be with another guy. I get mad when he has to work Saturdays and Sundays instead of spending the day naked in bed with me. I've gone completely psycho girly over this guy, and starting January 2007 I'm going to have to see him less.

My pool of friends has dwindled and might drop to negatives in 2007. It is not so much a bad thing because I understand that lives change and we will always be there for each other. It just sucks that I will have to hang out even less. It sucks that people will move away. It sucks because I will miss them... already do.

Tomorrow most people will start fresh. Most people will tackle their resolutions.

Tomorrow I will make the most of what I have.

Tomorrow I will continue my struggle.

Tomorrow will be no different from today.

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Zero with Junk in the Trunk

I don't like fat people. Am I offending you? Should I use the proper medical terminology? Overweight, obese, morbidly obese. Who cares... can't stand any of them.

I'm sorry. Let me clarify. I don't like fat people who complain about being fat, and yet don't go to the gym or only eat carbs.

At Christmas Eve service, the kids choir got up to sing. The first thing I did was turn to my mom and say "Do you notice how fat this country is getting? If not, take a look at the youth." About 80% of these pre-teens were fat.

I'm mad at retailers who feed into the American public. Banana republic, express and virtually any name brand feels it is necessary to boost the American self-image by screwing around with sizes. I do not need a self-esteem boost. My ego is already out of control.

I need to love myself and take care of my health. I'm doing both with therapy, a healthy diet (ok maybe my diet isn't so healthy) and Boston Sports Club. The rest of the country should shut the F(at) up and do the same thing.

Thanks Express for my size ZERO editor pants. They look fabulous. I'm sure you know I'm really a size 4. Piss off Banana Republic for making my ass look flat in your size zero Martin fit pants with all the extra room in the bum area. I am not some virtual woman with a tiny waste and an apple bottom.

I am me and I am ok.

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Sliders

I'm a closet sci-fi/fantasy geek. I can't wait to see Eragon. I still haven't unwrapped my Lord of the Rings trilogy. I love X-files, including the techno remix of the theme song... and YES... I own a light saber.

One of my favorite shows of all time is Sliders. I loved the idea of alternate universes, parallel worlds where the people were essentially the same but the worlds were different and so were their lives. Women ruled. Russia took over America. Penicillin didn't exist.

I often imagined how I would be different. What would I be like if my parents never left India? What if I wasn't Indian? What if I was Indian French? All the possibilities. All the fantasies.

Today I was sitting at Christmas service completely bummed out, and slightly hungover. I am freaking out about 2007. Medical school is unfreakingbelievably hard for me. I love science. I love people. I even love medicine. BUT I HATE MEDICAL SCHOOL. I can't stand the majority of my classmates. I can't believe the people who are going to be doctors.

I admit I am jealous that they're able to memorize everything and spit it back out on exams... and still remember the useless crap afterwards, but that's not what medicine is supposed to be about.

Unfortunately, that's what the first 2 years of medical school are all about. Memorize, spit, memorize again, spit again. It is miserable. I'm tired and unhappy, and everyone knows that I don't do well when I'm unhappy. In high school I used to pretend to like a class, then magically I would like it and get an A. For some reason that tactic is not working with medical school.

Did I mention I take USMLE step 1 in June? This is quite possibly the MOST important exam I will take in medical school. The score I receive on this exam will determine my residency. In case you were wondering, I'm passing... just... passing. If I just pass Step 1, I'm gonna end up as a primary care or something worse if that's even possible. I honestly can't imagine anything worse than primary care.

Today I was trying to be thankful for everything I have. I was trying to not want to get the best residency, rather to find happiness. I can't think of a time I was ever truly happy. There are fleeting moments, but that is about it. Then I thought about alternate lives. In each one I am alone with my creativity, my financial freedom, my happy life.

If only I had Quinn's timer right now. I'd open the portal and jump, and keep jumping through wormholes until I landed in the world where I am happy.

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Get over me please

LegalSeafoods is an incredibly charming and handsome man. He's well-read and funny, and he's a bartender. How could I resist a man who works his butt off to provide the precious nourishment that is alcohol.

We had a rocky start to our short-lived relationship. I met him on his birthday. He was late. I knew where he worked, so after waiting for about 30 minutes I gave up but didn't give in. I "wandered" right over to his restaurant and chatted up the hostess. I asked if she could give me his number. For security reasons, she couldn't disclose his info. I explained he was supposed to meet me for a date, but didn't show. After much prodding, she finally called him for me. There was no answer.

By this point, much of the front of the house staff was at the hostess stand. Having worked in a restaurant, I know how much servers LOVE gossip. When LegalSeafoods didn't answer nor called back within the next 5 minutes, I officially gave up. But of course I had to exact the tiniest, teansiest bit of revenge. Upon exiting the restaurant I thanked everyone for all of their help and asked them if they could do me a favor.

"Next time you see LegalSeafoods, please be sure to tell him thank you for standing me up."

Did I mention most of the staff were women?

As I walked out of the restaurant, guess who called me to tell me he wasn't too far from our original meeting point? I told him I left after 30 minutes, but I just walked out of his restaurant. I was starving and on my way to get some food if he wanted to join me. He did, but he told me to wait by his restaurant because he wanted to quickly run in and get his check. We met, he ran in, he ran right out... apparently a bunch of people were giving him a hard time for standing me up.

We both had a laugh and that was the beginning of our relationship.

A month later it was my birthday and I had told him that a friend of mine would be visiting from NYC. I had planned this visit before we met, and it was someone I was sorta involved with. Not a boyfriend, but a friends with benefits... very good benefits. I told LegalSeafoods if he didn't want me to have my friend visit, I would promptly call and cancel. I did this several times before my birthday. LegalSeafoods appreciated my honesty and assured me he was absolutely fine with my friend's visit.

This was the point where I knew we were not going to last. Telling me you're was fine with an FWB visiting is the same as telling me you're just not that into me.

After my birthday, LegalSeafoods wasn't fine. He expected me to NOT hook up with my FWB. I told him he was crazy to expect that. He had plenty, PLENTY of opportunities to tell me that he was uncomfortable. Acting like he was fine is the equivalent of lying. To blame me is pathetic, and I promptly dumped him.

A week later we got back together. He apologized. I apologized. We were together again, but of course I kept my distance... and went out on plenty of dates. He knew this, and he made it clear that he didn't like it since he wasn't seeing anyone else. After weeks of trying to make me feel bad, he finally stepped up and asked for what he wanted... exclusivity.

I was skeptical, but I agreed. A few hours later I found out that he HAD been seeing other people the entire time we were together.

Why ask me to be exclusive when you KNOW I don't care for it? Why lie to me about yourself when you know I have trust issues?

I promptly dumped him... for the second time.

He begged and begged to have me back. He admitted everything. I forgave him, but I would only try again after he did one thing for me.

I asked him to get tested... a very simple thing to do.

He wouldn't do it. I made appointments. I set time aside to meet him. He never showed. I nagged. I hate nagging but I did it. I also refused sex until it was done.

After about a month, he finally did it... or so he said he did. I asked for the written results. He refused. I asked to see his hospital card. He didn't have one.

You cannot get anything done at Massachusetts General Hospital without a blue card. LIAR LIAR LIAR.

Third and final dump.

It's been a year and a half since I last saw him. For a year and half he has been trying to make conversation online. More recently he has been trying to get together. He has a girlfriend and he STILL wanted to hang out with me.

How powerful.

I made plans. I broke plans. I wore him down until he admitted he was pathetic. An idiot. A fool. The truth. A sincere apology.

A weight lifted off my shoulders, and I could finally be his friend... or at least try. We met for lunch the other day, and everything went really well. We laughed, joked, caught up. He paid.

As we were parting, he hugged me and told me he didn't want to let go. He asked me to come back to his place to continue talking...

HA

Goodbye Legalseafoods. I'm not a challenge. I'm impossible. Get over me please... for your sake.

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VIP players can communicate

I was watching this youtube video called Keys to the VIP. The first "player" was describing why he is the ultimate player. He points to his bookshelf and says, "In order to communicate with girls, you have to be able to... intellectually communicate with them."

uh... yeah he's a one-nighter and nothing more.

But he did bring up an interesting point. In order to communicate, you HAVE to communicate. Chop out a few words, and you know what he really meant to say.

I suck at communication, and as a gemini I'm supposed to be the best. I'd rather not say anything and hope things work out in my favor. I have this tendency to jump from one extreme to the other in my thinking and it comes out in my words. I don't make sense. I confuse myself. I confuse others.

I'm confused right now.

Monday night after a fun shag, RedSox wasn't as tired as he claimed to be. In fact he was rather talkative... and he asked me if I was really getting off every time we had sex.

If that isn't the kiss of death, I'm sure I could find some poisonous gloss and plant one on him... or myself.

I don't get off every time I have sex. I don't get off any time I have sex. It's me. I have a mental block. I enjoy sex so much, but I focus so much on the act more than how I feel.

I guess I should go back to the beginning. I'll make it short. My mom is very religious and shunned all sins. My dad didn't wanna get nagged, so he went along with everything. We never talked about sex, nor were we ever comfortable enough to bring it up. Hormones kicked in, and I thought my feelings were dirty and sinful. I thought only men masterbated. I never touched myself, never really did anything about it.

In college I hooked up more than the average girl, about 2 guys per weekend. Four years of that, and well you can do the math. BUT I never had sex with any of them. Most of the men reading this may ask how that is possible. It was a power thing. I took control and they all loved it.

By the end of senior year I was ready for more. My first time was great. I trusted my friend. He was a complete gentleman. He made sure lent was over, and I assured him Easter was the day before. The act wasn't dirty. It didn't hurt. I felt great.

So great that you could say I went on a rampage after that. I couldn't get enough sex. I never orgasmed, but it still felt incredible. I didn't know what an orgasm was until months later when Berklee went down on me. I thought I was having a heart attack... a really satisfying and wonderful heart attack. But a heart attack nonetheless.

I freaked out internally and wouldn't let him go down on me again. I didn't want to die naked... back then. Now I think it's the way to go.

And Death by Orgasm? Well it sounds like a cocktail, but I do love COCKtails.

Anyways, life went on. Men came and went. Sex came and I never came...

My first therapist helped me get over my fear of myself. Now I can't stop masterbating. My new therapist is helping me get over my fear of relationships. I'm still a work in progress.

I told RedSox the truth. I told him it's a comfort thing. It was hard to get all the words out in a coherent and well thought manner, but I'll get there.

And when I do, I'll have the keys to the VIP.

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I've got this one...

I wouldn't say I date up. Occasionally I've dated down. In general, I date money.

I'm used to being taken care of. My parents pay for everything. My mens pay for dates. I like it. I still believe in parental and gender roles, so I don't feel bad about it at all.

All day yesterday I had a very odd headache. Not hangover, not piercing forehead, not even pressure on top of the head. It was new. A periphery headache.

Needless to say it wasn't fun. I planned to go to a wine tasting with a wine club that I have yet to try and then to Saint for my first time on a Monday night and meet a good friend I haven't seen in a million years, but I didn't know if drinks and pounding music would be a good idea. Instead I stuck to the futon until RedSox called.

RedSox called to tell me the wine-tasting sold out and his connections were disconnected. I was kinda happy. The colts/bengals game was a go though if I was interested. I love football, so of course I was interested. He picked me up and we drove around the corner to get great burgers and watch the game.

It was a pretty typical date for us. Chatting randomly, enjoying each other's company, watching sports. I told him about my headaches. He told me about his stomach aches.

Around half-time we had finished our food. RedSox got up to go to the mens' room. I grabbed the bartender and paid.

Paying for a date might be MY next step in a relationship.

I think it's a comfort thing. I do expect men to pay because of my belief in gender roles, but more because I believe my time is worth it. I finally feel very comfortable with RedSox, so paying didn't feel weird to me.

When he got back, I got up to hit the ladies. He went to pay and I told him, "Put your wallet away, I've got this one."

And then I ran away.

Childish... a little. But it's still progress.

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I don't fear commitment. I fear Monogamy.

I didn't even realize it until I was watching the Girls Next Door. Holly was talking about her 5 year relationship with Hef. When asked why they weren't married, she made it clear that Hef is very committed to her. He just fears monogamy.

I couldn't have described myself any better.

Over the weekend I had planned to talk to Redsox, but it didn't happen. I wouldn't say I chickened out. I just didn't know what to say. If I told him "everything" what would that accomplish? If I told him nothing, what would be wrong with that? What did I even want to tell him? Did I really have something to say or was I trying to do something I think I "should" do?

In addition to being an all or nothing type of girl, I am a should/should not type of girl.

We were lying in bed saturday morning and I was thinking about what to say. I realized telling him about Vegas or NYC or any other guy would be doing what I think I should do. I wasn't afraid of what might happen if I told him, but I actually wanted to keep it private. I don't tell my friends everything, and Redsox is just a friend. What I do for fun is for me (and everyone who reads my blog).

I am not interested in an exclusive relationship. I like being friends with benefits. I like the way things are going, so why was I thinking of changing anything?

Because I think I should. I think I'm supposed to be moving along some timeline, when the reality is there is no such thing as a timelime in relationships. In fact, following a timeline is a guaranteed destructive and awful ending.

I hope I didn't dissapoint any of you. I won't be singing the blues. I also won't be in a monogamous relationship any time soon.

It scares me...

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Southern Blues

I met OleMiss 3 years ago in Boston. He was a craigslist date. A simple dinner turned into an amazing friendship.

I know you were expecting me to tell you we hooked up, but I was actually dating ex-boyfriend (who wasn't boyfriend quite yet). Since I'm afraid of relationships, I purposely kept myself available... yet unavailable.

We kept hanging out, bringing in our respective friends. Finally the tension reached its peak, and I chose ex-boyfriend. My friends loved OleMiss. I knew he was great, but I was a chicken and chose ex-boyfriend because I knew it ultimately wouldn't last.

OleMiss wasn't happy, but he decided that a friendship was more important. We remained awesome friends, and I guess I did spend more time with him than I did with ex-boyfriend.

Two months after we decided to be friends, OleMiss got an amazing job offer in NYC and off he went. I was sad to see him go, but I was also happy for him because his ultimate dream is to make it on Wall St.

We kept in touch regularly through instant messenger. Ex-boyfriend finally became ex-boyfriend and I turned to OleMiss. Not so much for comfort, but actually for laughs and fun. I even hopped the cheap Greyhound bus and went for a visit.

We hooked up. (I knew you were waiting for that). It was great. He and I had amazing chemistry. We had fun in and out of the bedroom. I kept going down to NYC. He came up to Boston.

Last year he came up to Boston for Thanksgiving. I realized I felt more for him than I normally would allow myself to feel for anyone, and I couldn't control it. Right after Thanksgiving, I bought my tickets to head to NYC for a weekend. That would be a year ago today (approximately).

It was a year ago today (approximately) that OleMiss told me he met someone.

For the first time in my life, I was heartbroken. I didn't know what to say because I wanted to be happy for him, but I wasn't. I was upset. I had just received the confirmation email for NYC bus tickets, and I wouldn't be using them.

Lucky for me, I have an incredible roomate who felt the rift in the universe, confirmed my feelings and dictated exactly what was going through my mind.

I had a choice. I could tell OleMiss exactly how I felt or I could run away and pretend everything was fine.

I told him. I put my heart on the line. I said everything I felt for him. I told him I was upset, but wanted to be happy for him. "I know we're hundreds of miles away blah blah blah." It was your standard logorrhea.

The pause was only 2 seconds, but of course felt like hours.

He replied, "I feel the same way."

The joy was overwhelming. It was so wonderful that I didn't care what happened next.

And what happened next was the right thing. He gave his relationship in NYC a shot. Now a year later... they're still together.

Now a year later.... they're on the verge of a break. She wants to move on to the next step. He's struggling with making that move.

I know you're thinking I want to try again, but actually we're just gonna be friends. I know how he feels. Struggling to make that next move is the story of my life.

Most people would love to be in a relationship. I don't want to let go of my single life. I have freedom. I can date whomever I please. I can go out on a ton of dates, use and abuse. I can basically never grow up.

But I am growing up, whether I like it or not. Everything about me has changed in less than a year. I am trying to stay the same old Roxy. I'm holding on for dear life, but it's not working. It doesn't feel the same anymore. I no longer feel proud of the hearts I've stepped on. I don't care about any of the gifts anymore.

I think God has answered my prayers. I asked for someone I am attracted to, someone good, someone who really likes me for more than looks, someone who listens... someone patient, accepting, fun, intellectual. And in addition to all of that... RedSox loves to drink and has blond hair.

So what's the problem? I am a "future negative" thinker. I can only imagine the worst case scenarios.

(I never finished reading "The Power of Now." I swear I will over the break).

My therapist has been helping me realize and understand my behavior, and never once has she judged anything I've done. She's been encouraging me to take steps towards change, and because I'm an "all-or-nothing" type of girl (ie. typical med student), I go at change with my all... and somehow survive the multitude of anxiety attacks.

So this weekend I plan to tell RedSox everything... well almost. I'll try to be less "all", but more than "nothing."

It scares the crap out of me. It has also brought me to a bit of a low because I am imagining the worst, and it doesn't feel good.

For OleMiss, a break doesn't feel good... but it's not the worst, in fact it's the right thing to do. After this weekend, I guess we'll both either be singing the blues or doing whatever the best case scenario brings.

I wish I could imagine that.

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Typical

I'm pretty sure we all have typical behaviors.
Anything I do to a guy is "typical Roxy." Any rearrangement of the apartment is "typical Roomate." I could come up with a typical behavior for practically everyone I know.

So it's Christmas time, and I'm trying to think of gifts for the family. Our family here in Boston keeps growing, and I honestly don't know any of my cousins that well. For the past few years instead of trying to come up with good gifts for each one of them, I would send out a mass email asking them what they want and telling them what I want. No surprise Christmas morning when we all get exactly what we asked for.

Every day I walk past the Opera House. Every day I see the banners for the Nutcracker. The other day I decided I wanted to see the Nutcracker.

Typical Roxy would get one of her mens to take her.
Atypical Roxy decides to take the cousins as their Christmas present.

Six cousins for good seats = $420

I can swing that, BUT typical Roxy will try to get the best deal possible. So first I solicit a few friends with membership discounts. BAM! $40 off. SAWEEET! Down to $380.

Next I call my mom. She always makes a big deal about the importance of family, I know she'll be so excited I want to hang out with my cousins that I'm sure she'll help me pay for half.

Mom likes the idea (especially because I made a big deal about the new addition to our family courtesy of my cousin's marriage). But of course she needs to discuss with dad.

The next day I get the call from mom. All systems go! My instructions are to pick up the cash and get 10 tickets. Hmm... there's only 6 of the cousins total.

My mother has decided to invite herself, force my dad to come along and throw in my aunt and uncle as well. Typical mom.

I figure I'm getting help with the funds. Christmas is more than Jesus. It's family, too. So cool deal... let's ALL go.

I drop by my mother's office and she hands me a thick envelope of cash. I head over to the box office, ask for 10 tickets. I get $40 off and I pull out the cash to start paying. I keep counting out the 20s and in the end it's evident that my father has decided to pay for the whole extravaganza and let me keep my money. Typical Dad.

I keep the $40 I saved with plans to spend it on trinkets for others.
I don't try to argue against my parents for buying my Christmas presents for me.

Typical Roxy.

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It ain't over til Celine Dion sings!

And she has laryngitis, so it truly isn't over.

Even though I end things... Even though I may say "don't call me"... most of them still call or email or text or instant message.

LegalSeafoods: He's instant messenging me as I write this.

Harvard Business School (HBS): constantly begs me to visit him in Milwaukee.

Ex-Boyfriend: Keeps in touch platonically. It works out well. I just asked him for sex advice. (I know!)

Strays here and there: When are we gonna hang out again???

And now... LV.
He said he wanted a serious relationship. I said no. I knew I'd hear from him again, but I wasn't expecting to hear from him as soon as I did.

I'd say about 2 weeks after things ended before they even really began, he emailed me and asked if I had any free time coming up to come to Vegas.

HBS played this game with me a few months ago. He expected me to plan my trip out Milwaukee. Please... you want me, you do the work.

And that's exactly what LV did. I told him the weekend of Dec 3rd. A half an hour later, he emailed me my flight itinerary.

I flew into Vegas Friday night. On the flight there, I got drunk with the girl next to me and we chatted about all about Vegas and whatnot... you know that whole "I'm drunk and you're my new best friend" deal.

I arrived at midnight East Coast Time. LV picked me up and drove me around the strip. We then went to a new hotel called Red Rock and met up with his old boss and a few clients. I wasn't tired at all, so we played craps until 5am EST. My first time rolling the dice I hit the dealer, but afterwards I kept hitting the wall as I should and it was a blast!

Saturday I wanted to walk around the casinos and watch LV play in a poker tournament. He had a couple tournaments to choose from, and each could go for 4+ hours depending on how well he did. Since he tends to make the final table he told me it would be boring to watch him for 4+ hours, so he gave me $1000 and told me to go have some fun and call him when I'm done or if I need more money.

I know you think I'm joking, but I assure you that he was for real. I took the money and went straight to the shops in Ceasar's palace. LV called me before I was done because some amateur nailed him 2 hours into the tournament.

Bad for LV. Good for me to have cash... and now his credit card.

Purchases:
Purse from Louis Vuitton $650
Sunglasses from Gucci $300
Shoes from Burberry $250
Dress from Intermix $270
Headband from Burberry $65

After shopping, I sat and watched him go almost all the way in the second tournament. I figure sitting around and watching him play for 5 hours is worth $1500 in designer fun.

Unfortunately he didn't make it to the final table, but we went back to Red Rock and won some money playing craps. We slept well last night and he dropped me off at the airport this morning.

I got home a couple hours ago, and I actually wondered whether LV had fun. He spent thousands just to have me visit for 2 nights. I wouldn't spend that kind of money on any man.

The second I landed, I got a text saying he missed me already. So yes he had fun.

Will I see him again?

Maybe

Do I care?

Nah

VIVA LAS VEGAS!

(and I'll admit I am bummed that I didn't get to see Celine Dion sing. I hope she feels better soon!)

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Thanks, Bye... DON'T call me!

I use this phrase quite often. As a serial dater, I have to. He is interested. I'm not...

The long version... Thank you for the wonderful date. Have a great evening. I'm sure you'll agree that there wasn't any chemistry, so I must decline any further engagements.

Ok I've never actually said that in person, but I have in the polite post-date email.

So as I've already written, my cousin J is going through a tough time with her marriage. She has decided that it's over, and the whole family (adults not kids) are working on getting her out of her unhealthy relationship with S.

I predicted that my sister and I would get a lecture on marriage as a result of this drama. Thanksgiving went without a hitch. Friday typical shopping. Saturday more shopping then family dinner at a restaurant.

Nothing. No lecture.

Sister came into my room Saturday night to talk about the lecture. Were we getting it? Was I wrong? How could I be wrong? Mom and Dad LOVE to lecture us. Maybe they're getting too old. Senility. Dad forgot.

OR maybe... they didn't want to lecture us because they're afraid it will put us off of marriage all-together. That is completely against their indian culture... unacceptable.

Sunday morning, Sister and I are having breakfast and it finally came. It was very short, sweet, to the point and not at all aggressive. It was dad alone, too.

Dad: If either of you is involved with a guy and there is something about him you don't like, GET OUT. Don't think about trying to change him. You cannot change people. Decide whether it is something you can live with it. If not, get out.

Of course I piped in... in agreement.

Me: Absolutely Dad. If there's something I don't like, I just say "Thanks! Bye! DON'T call me!"

Dad: Ha... well yeah, you could say that.

Me: I already do.

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What's your fantasy?

I like to ask people what their fantasies are. Most jump right to the sexual fantasies, so it's always a pleasant surprise when a person thoughtfully asks what kind of fantasy I am looking to hear about.

RedSox did just that when I asked him tonight. I told him to pick his current fave, and it was the classic office sex fantasy. On his desk or being straddled on his chair.

Office sex is one of my TOP fantasies too. I imagine myself wearing that classy, elegant long coat. I walk past everyone on the floor, greeting them with a smile and confidence. They have no idea what I'm wearing underneath my coat.

I enter his office, close the door and lock it. He's surprised but very happy to see me. It's been a long day. I slowly walk towards the desk while unbuttoning my coat. I let it fall to the floor. His mouth is gaped wide open. I'm wearing my new bra/panty set from Agent Provacateur, complete with stockings and stillettos.

And well... the rest varies depending on my mood...

So that is one of my sexual fantasies, but what's my current, constant, repetitive fantasy?

Well for the past year and a half I have been living in medical school hell. The night before an exam (and believe me when i say there are MANY of these nights) is unbelievably stressful. Do I really need to know this much detail? Most drugs will change by the time I get to practice and I'll have them all downloaded on my PDF anyways.

When I stress out I have my Trophy Wife fantasy. My husband thinks I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I am number 1 and he adores me. He loves me... but I'm not just his prize to show off. He doesn't put me down. I am the mother of his children, and he is excited to come home at the end of the work day.

And when he gets home... there I am in some cute dress wearing an even cuter Jessica Steele apron. Our toddler will be sitting on the kitchen counter chatting up a storm to keep me entertained as I prepare dinner. Husband will have that look in his eyes when he sees us. A big hollywood kiss for me and a hug and tickle for Toddler.

When Toddler goes to bed we'll have our alone time. I'll put on something a little sexier... maybe wear ONLY the apron. We'll have a passionate romp. He'll adore my body, sculpted by plenty of gym time. We'll go to sleep. Next morning I send my husband off with a loving kiss and take Toddler to daycare. Then it's shopping and gym time.

No studying. No stress. Just completely taken care of and loved. I do the same in return.

I told RedSox about my fantasy. A huge, bold, potentially stupid move on my part, but I had no worries. I wasn't concerned he would judge me. I knew he wouldn't think I was a gold-digger or someone with zero respect for education.

I was correct. In fact he loved the Trophy Wife fantasy. He thought it really hot, and he has the same definition for Trophy Wife as I do.

So what's your fantasy? Right now. Tell me...

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Spicy

"Yes I'd like the vindaloo, and make it EXTRA spicy"- me
"umm... are you sure?"- server
"YEAH!"- me

Did I mention I was wasted?

Come on... It was St. Patrick's Day 2002, and Dru and I were celebrating in England. I could only tolerate one bite, but to this day I still ask my server for hot sauce everytime my plate is set before me.

I like to spice things up, including men. I know I claim to narrow my playing field by pinpointing certain qualities (physical attributes) I require in men... blond, no body fat, HOT... but the reality is none of that matters. I just LOVE men. Got a penis? Good. That's all I need.

Ultimately that's all I need... but I still tend to stick with a certain type (hot, white, yellow, chocolate). So tonight I spiced things up by going out on a date with an Indian guy. Normally my mens are anything but Indian, so this was very new for me.

We went to a very nice restaurant, had wine, steak, souffle. I love to dine out, eat fabulous food and enjoy great conversation. Unfortunately, he annoyed me. Conversation was boring. There were too many uncomfortable silences where I was reaching for something interesting to talk about. Basically, I just didn't feel a connection.

I've written this one off, but I'll try not to write off Indian men.

For now one bite is all I can tolerate, but keep that hot sauce stocked up. ;)

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A Pricy Education or a Priceless one?

I just came from a lunch with my dean. He wanted to get together with a small group of students and get feedback on the school. He welcomed praise and criticism equally.

I have very few issues with medical school, at least on the school as a whole. I would love to complain about all the studying and ask him to have the faculty cut the amount of material or make all the exams matching. That's wishful thinking... and insulting.

One complaint that nearly every student has is the cost of tuition. Now, I am blessed with successful parents who pay for my education... and everything else. So tuition has never been and will never be one of my complaints.

Yes my education is pricy, but it is PRICELESS. You could add up my tuitions bills, textbook bills, rent, whatever and the dollar value is miniscule, heck non-existant, in comparison to my knowledge.

With that knowledge comes resposibility. Not only do I have to provide the best care possible for my patients, I have to provide the best education possible for my future colleagues. There are several ways to go about this, but I think one of the first steps to take before I achieve my position as an attending is to give back.

I give money to my school every year, but now I will give my time. Meeting with the dean today was a great start, tomorrow will be the alumni and the next day... my students.

Medicine is an endless education, a very costly education... but in reality it is cheap, and I am very lucky to have found the best bargain in the world.

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Do you feel safe at home?

My cousin's wife arrived from India on Friday, and yesterday we all gathered at my parents' home to welcome her with a family dinner. Unfortunately our family has been stunned by a recent turn of events.

One of my other cousins has been a victim of domestic abuse.

I used to laugh when the nurse at my yearly doctor's visit would ask if I felt safe at home. Of course I did. Domestic violence only happens in the movies.

It doesn't just happen in the movies. It's real life. It's now in my life.

J is a wonderful person. She's an amazing cook. She's very sweet. She is funny and sarcastic. She is loving. She always listens to her elders and does what she is told. Her major fault... She tries too hard to please the family, so she really DOES do EVERYTHING she is told to do.

Last year J went home to India to visit her mom. At 26, she's at the perfect age for marriage (actually on the older end by indian standards). Her mother put out the ad in the papers and internet, and J started meeting potential suitors. She liked a few here and there, but they never called her again. You see J is a big girl, and we all know looks matter.

Then she met S... and he was ok. Just ok. Her mom and the community pressured her to marry S because well... he was the only one willing to marry her and they didn't believe she could find anyone else.

J agreed to marry S. She came back to the US and continued her life here while her mom planned the wedding. She kept in touch with S over the phone, and they seemed to get along better. They married a year ago. He didn't get his visa to come to the US for a few months, so in my mind they've only been married a few months.

None of us know when the abuse started. Our best guess is a couple months ago. He wouldn't let her talk to many people. He accused her of having affairs. He would get drunk and go on a tirade and threaten to kill himself. J didn't tell anyone.

When my mom invited J and S to dinner earlier this week, she called J... but J made my mom call S and invite him as if it was the initial invite. My mom thought it was weird, but J said that it has to be done that way. S found out that my mom had called J first and sh!t hit the fan. They got in a huge fight, he threatened to hurt her and kill himself. She called her sister lilJ and left. J has since called the police on S and he's now chilling in the psych ward until further notice.

I don't know what will happen. We are all upset with S. We're upset with J. We're angry with ourselves because we couldn't do anything.

Well, now we are doing something. My parents, uncle and aunt have taken over. I'm sure my parents will pay him off to get him out of J's life and back to India. My uncle will execute everything. My mom and aunt will comfort J.

So what can I do? I can pray. I can call. I can be there for her.

I can be the best doctor in the world for my patients and recognize the pain before it continues, and I will never laugh again when the nurse asks me if I feel safe at home.

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Au Revoir LV

In my last post I wrote that I'm quick to drop men, and yesterday I had to drop LV. We didn't even get a chance to spend any time together, neither in the bedroom nor in the mall.

I have a problem. Men fall in love with me. I know most women would love to have this problem, but it's a HUGE pain in the ass. I make it very clear that I want a casual relationship. I describe what I'm looking for in detail, and most men agree to it. Hell they get to fuck me... and whomever else!

The reality is they're just saying what they think I want to hear just to stay with me. They're hoping I will change, maybe even that they will change me. They're hoping I'll see how perfect we are together, look forward to getting married and make beautiful babies.

When did men turn into women?

As much as I love what the womens' movement has done for basic rights, fairness and freedom, I do blame it for what it has done to men. Most men are pussies. Most need me to take charge in the bedroom. Most cry before I even get comfortable holding their hands.

I want a man to be a man. Walk half a step ahead of me. Hold the door for me. Show me off as your trophy. Kiss me goodbye in the morning and make love to me when you return from work. Take charge in the bedroom. But most importantly, Be PATIENT with me.

I don't jump into a relationship of any sort just for the hell of it, but I will jump out of one faster than speedy gonzalez.

And so I had to bid farewell to LV. There's not enough sugar in the world to get me into a long-term relationship that I'm not interested in. Not enough sugar to pull me out of medical school and drop my dreams. Not enough sugar to move across the country to be with him.

Au revoir LV. J'espere que tu trouves ton amour.

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Drop it...

I'll be the first to admit that I'm quick to drop relationships. I'm easily scared off, put off or just not getting off. It's unhealthy, but again... I'm working on it.

It's also unhealthy when I stay in relationships in hopes that things will improve.

Some Examples:
1. Environmental Lobbyist: Horrible Horrible kisser, but HOT and PREPPY. Kissing never did improve.
2. My ex-boyfriend: Clingy, Spastic, Hard-headed, but passionate and loved me. He's still crazy.
3. LegalSeafoods: Liar, cheater, unavailable, but oh so charming and perfect to bring home.

All of these relationships were unhealthy, but I got rid of these guys and haven't looked back.

I won't get rid of friends though.

I actually tried to get rid of my best friend once. I was in college, she was a waitress. I was upset that she didn't go to college, that she wasn't trying to get out of our hometown and do something with her life. I reduced phone calls, kept conversations short, tried so hard to push her away. But she wouldn't let me go and for that I'm grateful.

I was the one with the problem, but it took me years to figure it out and solve it.

So what happens now when friendships upset me? Sorta the same thing. I pull away and make myself unavailable.

I'm doing it right now.

Medical School naturally makes me unavailable. Last year I was so upset that I couldn't go out every night or meet up whenever people wanted. I tried and it took a toll on schoolwork, so I prioritized. All of my friends supported me and continued to respect our friendship.

Recently, a friend of mine got upset with our group because we didn't all have time to meet up for brunch. I tried not to get upset, but it re-surged all of my depression from last year because I couldn't meet up. I sent as civil an email as I could, and have yet to hear a reply... let alone an apology.

I can't change my friends. I don't want to change them. I just want them to respect our friendship.

An imbalance can be unhealthy, but I'm willing to stand on one foot for as long as it takes because I am NOT quick to drop my friends.

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The Mole

Today was an exam day. After an exam, you'd be lucky if I touched anything related to medicine.

I got my haircut. I walked around Newbury. I was feeling good, so I decided I wanted to go out on a date tonight. Unfortunately RedSox had a fundraiser to attend, and LV is playing poker at Foxwoods. So....... Craigslist it is.

I posted to get a burger at the 21st Amendment, and as expected close to 30 guys responded. But I went with... sorry I have to... Mole.

I didn't notice it in his pic. jpegs are small. I'm not looking at details. I'm just looking for someone I "can" or "cannot" be seen with. When I saw Mole, well... I didn't see the mole. I saw someone with whom I could be seen.

I agreed to meet him at 21st, and things started out great! We said hello, even had a friendly hug. We left the bar area to sit at a table, where there was better lighting. That's when I saw it... a prominent mole above his eye.

I'm more mature than this, so I went right into conversation. We talked about a bunch of random stuff with witty banter back and forth. Everything was going really well. The burgers were fab. I had an awesome oktoberfest.

But I couldn't help it. My eyes kept wandering back to the mole, and I'd be in a trance.

Needless to say, I was back home in less than an hour. I guess the mole had enough and whispered to my dinner companion that it was time to go.

Before I wrote this entry, I was thinking of researching moles on medline so I could educate all of you... and reassure myself that they're not contagious or life-threatening or GROSS (even though they are totally gross).... but like I said today was an exam day, and I'm not about to touch anything related to medicine.

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Just giving you a hard time...

"Wow 2 nights in a row? You don't ever see a guy 2 nights in a row unless he's visiting from out of town."- My Trophy Roomate

I met RedSox in May. Suprise Surprise thru Craigslist. I wasn't responding to an ad for a date. I had gone out to party, and it sucked. Not horribly, but partying isn't the same now that I'm in medical school. I'm home at 2am-ish, drunk and I decide to go on craigslist to rant about my evening. And then I read a post written by someone who sounded like he had a night JUST like mine.

Asshole... I was supposed to write it!

Well I couldn't rant about my night, so I responded to him expressing my empathy... sympathy... ugh whatever you call it. Vocabulary is not my forte.

The next morning RedSox responded to my email. He seemed cool. I liked his writing style. He said he had never posted on Craigs, and in fact he had forgotten he put up the post in his drunken state. We exchanged instant messenger names and kept chatting. Then we exchanged pictures....

OK OK. I'm superficial, snobby, arrogant... the ultimate egomaniac.

RedSox wasn't very attractive. Sweet smile, but a bit on the "larger" side. I decided to keep chatting with him. We hadn't talked about dating or anything. We were just chatting as "friends." Clearly I'm a fan of quotation marks... or I'm just trying to make myself feel better.

At the end of May, RedSox asked me if I was free to attend a Sox/Yankees game. What idiot would say no?

We met... We went into the private season ticket holder entrance and sat in the most AMAZING seats ever at Fenway.

I liked RedSox. He was a genuinely nice guy, but yeah... I had no interest in dating. He, on the other hand, was interested. I went along with life as usual, but things got more and more uncomfortable.

Finally, I decided to try something new... be mature. I told him I wasn't interested in a relationship. I just wanna have fun. He agreed, and suddenly things took a 180 degree turn. We were having so much fun together! It's like a huge weight was lifted off both of our shoulders. The rest of the summer was fabulous.

About a month ago, after a brutal set of exams, I went out with my Trophy roomate. We didn't have a fun night. Med School continues to ruin my fun, and now Law school ruins hers.

When I got home, RedSox was online and IMed me to tell me what a crappy night he had. In my drunken state, I told him we could hang out... but only if he kissed me.

Trophy was less than pleased... she thought I was leading him on. Trophy REALLY likes RedSox for me by the way.

RedSox signed off and I swear 5 minutes later he was calling me to tell me he was outside my door. Off I went.

We went back to his place. I've stayed there several times before on the couch, but this time I was in his bed and we were watching dvds for a bit. Then I turned towards him and kissed him.

It was GREAT. I'm usually not one to comment on kissing unless it sucks, but we matched point on point. I spent the night, and we didn't have sex... highly unusual.

We've talked and have decided to be friends with benefits. It works for my commitment-phobic, free-spirited, lying-to-myself personality.

Things have been great. We've been hooking up once per week ever since... and it keeps getting better.

Don't get too excited. I'm still taking things slowly... well "emotionally" slow. And I will continue my bad behavior. And I will still be out drinking and having a good time and keeping things superficial.

"sure sure... do whatever Roxy. I'm just giving you a hard time... you like RedSox, you like Redsox."- Trophy

Maybe I do...

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Smile

I just read one of my friend's away messages. "Smile. It makes people wonder what you've been up to."

It's true. I smile quite a bit, and I'm always up to something.

Tonight, I met with a potential sugar daddy. I know I know. It makes me a whore, prostitute, whatever you want to call it. But I assure you that this has been a long process. Almost 2 years.

I didn't hear the term until after college. I read about it on craigslist, and I was appalled! Who would do that?

But of course... I pursued it.

First, I tried to get the definition. No consensus. Then I posted for a daddy. No luck. Then I responded to posts to be a baby. Nothing satisfied me.

On and off for 2 years I tried to find something that worked. I finally realized that sugar daddy/sugar baby is a unique relationship that is different for each individual couple.

And when I realized this... I met Las Vegas. I'll call him LV for short.... only because I might be wearing some more Louis Vuitton thanks to him.

We met for the first time tonight and went out for steak at Mortons. Fabulous as expected. I fully intended this evening to be experimental. A typical "date" perhaps. We meet, chat, have great conversation. He pays. I say thanks. That's my general routine.

But tonight we talked about an arrangement. I didn't believe it was possible, but we had chemistry. He laid down an offer. Shit, I'd have sex with him for free... but that offer... well it's the kind of freedom any human... er sugar baby... would ask for.

So I'll be seeing LV again.... and next time you see me, you'll know why I'm smiling.

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Congratulations! (For what???)

Recently I was asked to be an honorary attendee at a fundraiser. I told people because I wanted to share the news of the fundraiser in hopes that they could attend or pass the word along. Most couldn't afford $250/plate or preferred to spend the money on other things, but they did offer congratulations and praise for the honor that I received.

I didn't expect the compliments and while I am appreciative, I'm still not sure how to take them... you see I don't think this is anything special.

Growing up in my household, academic achievements were expected. Other honors and achievements were disregarded. I can remember a very specific example from back in high school. Let me re-write a diary entry for you. I wrote the following on Dec. 8th, 1997 when I was 16:

*****I guess my last entry was written before I told my parents about being selected as the hostess for the Mr. Anonymous High School Contest. When mom came home, I was soooo happy, but something inside me was like, 'Are you sure you wanna tell your parents?' I couldn't think of any reason why not, so I ran downstairs all happy and gave my mom a huge hug and screamed that I was hostess!

She congratulated me, but it didn't seem real. The next thing she said was "when is this contest?" Right away I knew that I should've listened to my gut before. She was questioning the date to make sure that it didn't interfere with my SAT preparation.

I said March and she was all relieved. I went back upstairs no longer feeling so happy.

As if that wasn't bad enough, she came upstairs 5 minutes later and said, "When you came running down, I thought you got a 1600 on your PSATs."

I didn't say anything, but I was thinking 'FUCK YOU!! Everything in my fucking life revolves around the fucking SATs. DAMMIT!! Can't you support me instead of pressure me? And you ask why I don't tell you things or why I say I hate indian people. You're all the fucking same. Plenty of pressure but NO support.'

Well this incident brought me to an ultimate low. I was already lacking self-esteem because of my looks, now I just lack everything.*******

I'm not lacking everything anymore, but yeah... some things. After that incident 11 years ago, I pretty much stopped communicating with my parents. I continued to get straight A's and do the Indian thing... but really it was/is to keep them off my back.

I still share my achievements, but I'm not excited about them as much as I should be. As expected, my parents are never excited for me.

So when I told my parents about attending the fundraiser as an honorary attendee and when I asked them to come, I received an email from my dad... only.

"We will pass on the dinner."

So when you all support me, encourage me, congratulate me... please believe me when I say Thank You. I sincerely mean it.

I hope after reading this entry you can understand why I don't allow myself to get excited. Friends are amazing, but family is forever. When family doesn't care, how can I?

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Anonymous

Dear Reader,

I haven't been writing very long, so if you're reading this it means that you're probably a good friend of mine. This undoubtedly means you know my identity.

I am begging you not to reveal my name to your friends should you decide to share my blog. I also ask that you keep my name out of your comments. In fact, please forget my name altogether. Use Roxy if you must...

You see I'm not very good at connecting with people. I know you think that is BS since I am TOTALLY the life of the party. It's true though. Have you ever noticed how light and fluffy conversation is? How everything is fabulous? How drunk I am? How often I say "No Worries" when I'm sober?

Well there are worries, and things aren't always fabulous. Conversation should be more meaningful. I'm scared though. I have this intense fear of not being perceived as strong and confident.

I'm working on it... a good friend told me that you can't take 25 years of Roxy and change overnight. So that's why I have this blog. I'm diving right in and sharing stuff that I'd normally keep to myself or share randomly with select people here and there.

It's a start, and I hope you respect that. I want to be able to shout out everything to the world, but for now I'll shout it out in a blog... anonymously.

Sincerely,
Roxy... aka Anonymous

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and so the begging begins...

I live my love life... err... sex life in cycles. Same cycle with a different guy. Every time.

So Ted won't leave me alone. It's not so much that I want to be left alone, but holy goodness!! At least let me take a breath here and there.

I give him a little taste of my sexual juices and he's still thirsty. Now parched.

It happens with every guy. I don't think it's because I'm an amazing lay. I think it's because I make myself unnattainable... not unavailable, just unnattainable. It drives men wild, but I don't do it on purpose.

You see, I'm an honest gal. And right from the start I'm pretty upfront with guys about what I want. And I tell them that "we" will never happen. I don't want a relationship. I think it works for some people, but not for me. Suddenly, it's a competition, a race, whatever.

They keep coming back for more, and I give more as I please. But then they want more than the physical, and that's when I have to cut the cord.

They beg... keep begging... and finally (hopefully) they stop.

But Teddy is still at the beginning of the cycle... so I'm gonna let the wheel keep turning on this one.

tee hee.

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My Uterus is being a Bitch

I know I should love my uterus. I did for a long time, but recently she's been causing a ton of problems for me... such as cock-blocking.

I've been cock-blocked before. It happened my sophmore year of college.

After a sorority formal, OF COURSE I was going to hook up with my date. He was a blond hottie. I was the envy of every sorority sister, but none of them wanted to cock-block me. They had every intention of hooking up with their own dates. I actually received several congratulations for the evening I was supposedly going to have.

When we got back to school after the formal, the bus dropped us off at a different dorm. His best friend lived there, so we said hello. There were a few girls hanging out, including this one chick Lyn.

I didn't know Lyn very well, but every encounter had been casual and pleasant. I didn't feel threatened by her at all. I was in better shape and far more attractive. There goes my ego again... sorry.

I was very excited that I was going to hook-up with Blond Boy, and I shared my joy with Lyn. She twitched a bit, but I disregarded it as Tourettes.

Blond Boy was ready, and we decided to head out. Out of nowhere, Lyn announces that she'd like to hang out more and COMES WITH US. Like a drunken fool, I assumed she lived in Blond Boy's dorm and just wanted to walk with us. I missed the whole "hang out" part.

So we're back in Blond Boy's room... and she's kinda just there. I announce that I am exhausted and jump into bed. Blond Boy agrees. So does Lyn, but she doesn't leave. In fact, SHE JUMPS INTO BED WITH US!!

Needless to say, she killed my buzz. Now I was pissed. Blond Boy and I couldn't do anything. He got up to go to the bathroom. I got up and left. He calls me the next morning asking where I went, and I told him I couldn't hang out there with Lyn around. He assured me they didn't hook up, but I could care less. I wanted MY hook-up. For the first time in my life, I was cock-blocked! And I was beyond mad.

But I'm not one to act in anger....

The following weekend I tagged Blond Boy at a party and marched him straight back to his place. We had a fabulous hook-up... another keg tapped and kicked.

The next morning I saw Lyn and asked her about her hook-up with Blond Boy the week prior. She admitted nothing happened. I told her that's too bad because he rocked my world last night... suck on that bitch.

And now my uterus has decided to cock-block me... but I went to an ID doc today. I'll see my gyno in a few days, and I've made an appointment with the oncologist in a few weeks.

Clearly, I don't fuck around... bitch.

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Wine Appreciation

That's the name of my wine club. It's my second year as president, and I never had a REAL wine tasting. See, the school won't let me use my student government funding to buy alcohol.

Now what?

Well I'll tell you what. My casual encounter from yesterday happens to be a liquor distributor. I had no intention of ever contacting him again, but I have some use for him. I emailed him and he got back to me right away.

He's happy to support a wine tasting for me. In fact, he'll throw in some high end Pinot Noirs just for my personal enjoyment.

Good Boy.

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Casual Encounters

So it's a lazy saturday. I should be studying anti-bacterial drugs... and also bacteria itself since my exam is a week from Monday and I have done nothing.

But I got horny. Granted I had sex 2 nights ago, but I REALLLLLLY needed to get some....right away!!

At first I started IMing this guy Elliot. I'll call him Elliot since I don't quite remember his name. Elliot and I went on a date over a year ago. He's one of my craigslist boys. We had a decent time, but I didn't feel any chemistry. So I let him pay for my meal for wasting my time and that was that. But Elliot informed me MONTHS later that he thought I was really hot, but he was too shy. So I said we should try again. Back and forth emailing, no dates set... I'm going out with a bunch of guys in the meantime... Elliot is pathetic.

But today, Predator was in FULL force. I saw Elliot online and told him I was watching some porn. We should get together. He wanted to, but he was waiting for some delivery. Freak.
Now what? I love my bullet, but I needed penetration. So I did something I haven't ever done. I posted in Casual Encounters on craigslist. I made my post plain and simple:

Quickie- 25 w4m
Fit and cute chick in Beacon Hill. Get me off then get out.

As expected, a thousand guys responded within 1 minute. I deleted most because all they said was hi, yes please, or some other one or two word line that wasted time. Some I deleted because the pics were hideous. Then I get an email from Ted. He actually wrote a sentence and attached a pic. VERY handsome.

Ok Ted, you win.

We email back and forth for a little bit. I send my pic. He thinks I'm hot. Awesome... he's on his way. I'm feeling totally fine. The cats know something is up, so I give them some food and they go right on their way.

I end up waiting a little longer than expected. No worries. I can get excited realquick. The door buzzes and suddenly butterflies. Ted comes up. He's cute... not as cute as the pic, but I can overlook it.

We chat for about 2 minutes. He goes on and on about how hot I am. He sees my medical books. Now I'm hot and smart. Enough Teddy, let's get it on.

When we finish Ted gets dressed and then gives me a piece of paper with his number on it. He was so excited to meet a good-looking girl from craigslist that not only does he wants me to call him if I want to do this again... he wants me to call him so he can take me out on a date.

How cute...

Ted leaves, I write in my blog... and now it's back to a lazy saturday.

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owwie... sex isn't supposed to hurt

About a month ago I was dating this guy Sam. He's my age, still sorta struggling in the job world. Whatever! He's cute and we had a lot of fun when we chilled. (but let's be honest, I have fun with about 95% of the guys I date).
Sam and I had sex on our second date. The man cooked for me... I had to!!
But it hurt. I thought he was slamming into my uterus. He didn't seem that long, but maybe he was.
I told my friends the next day. One told me that sex hurt for her at one time and it turned out she had a cyst on her ovary. Of course, as a medical student, I think of the worst... so I think I've got cancer. But then she assures me that maybe it's just Sam.
Done.
Thanks Sam, bye... don't call me.

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oops... sorry about the delay

So I met Jon in NYC.... back at the end of July. We had a GREAT weekend together. He looked like his pic, and he told me that I looked better than my pics. We had great chemistry and I even went down to NYC again a few weeks later to visit.
I was supposed to see him a few weeks ago in September, but plans fell through. And now I'm so busy with school that I don't when I will again.
But hey... like any predator... thanks, had fun, maybe I'll see you around again.

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The name of my disease is Craigslist

I did the craziest thing this week... well by your standards. Not by this predator.
I posted on craigslist in another city to visit someone. Naturally a thousand guys responded and I had a ball getting to know a few, but the thing about craigs is that most guys (and girls) will email once or twice but never again. Or worse... you exchange pics and that's the end of the convo.

With craigs, you gotta take everything with a grain of salt. So when no one responds after I send my pic, well... he obviously found my fabulous looks intimidating. I'm ok with that and it's on to the next.

One guy replied and we hit it off with some light sarcasm. Then I boldly called him. We've been calling a bit here and there.

I bought my ticket... I hope he's as cute as his pics makes him seem. I hope I live up to my pic. Well stayed tuned to see if this even happens.

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Not a Player, rather a Predator

How did it happen? I don't think it's something that happened. It's who I am.

The first "almost- boyfriend" I had was the one who came to the conclusion. "Roxy, I wouldn't call you a player. You don't play guys. You prey on them. You're a predator."

I have so many stories I can't recount them all.

But if you ever read this... it's all I know how to be... myself.

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