Anniversaries

Roomate and her boyfriend recently celebrated their one-year. I feel like they've been together forever. Not in a bad way, but just that they became "one" fairly quickly. Their relationship is super strong, and I don't even remember what single Roomate was like.

Ok yes I do. I'm currently wearing the pajama pants of one of her random hook-ups. WHAT??? They're Ralph Lauren...

RedSox randomly asked me how long we've been together. I, being a woman, could not give a simple answer to this question. What was he really asking? I didn't know, so I had to be thorough.

"Well let's see... I met you in May '06, we sorta dated for a month. I ended things on my bday in June, then we were friends. I had my heinous week of exams at the end of September, including the neurology nightmare which sent me on a drinking binge at a pub in my slutty outfit. That same night I seduced you and we hooked up. I believe that was September 30th. Our hook-ups became more frequent. I got some kinks outta my system, and I'd say I decided our exclusivity began approximately December 15th."

RedSox ignored the bullshit and exclaims, "DECEMBER?! I kinda thought before then..."

I didn't really say anything. I knew he thought before then, and I felt bad.

But then I got mad. What did he want from me? How dare he think before then? I wasn't ready. I've never been ready. Even now I might not be ready. I'm flipping out!!

And he has no idea because I look cool, calm and collected.

So I did what Roxy does. I apologized, rudely.

"If you're looking for an anniversary, I'll make it real simple. We hooked up September 30th."

RedSox laughed and pulled me in for a kiss. "Technically we hooked up after midnight, so really October 1st."

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Choose your words wisely

I met Berklee after a super drunken night of free drinking courtesy of a Tanqueray promotional party. I took a few random college friends, and then went back to one's home. Berklee was the roomate. He was a total cutie with a great big smile. We flirted just a little bit... and then I was in his bedroom.

I didn't expect to see him again, but a few days later he got my number and called. We were together pretty much all the time after that, but I didn't want to let go of my old ways. I kept him at bay, never letting him closer than an arm's length. But then I started to fall for him. We had fun. He gave me my first orgasm. I was hooked.

I decided to tell him how I felt. One night after sex, we were lying next to each other and I thought this would be the perfect time. He beat me to it and told me how he felt. "You know, I don't think I could ever see you as my girlfriend."

I don't know if I had a heart attack... or experienced my first heartbreak. I just did what I knew how to do. I completely removed all emotion from what we had, and it was just gonna be sex until the next penis came along.

We continued seeing eachother for a few more months, and his feelings changed. He decided he did want more. He wanted me to be his girlfriend... but it was too late. I reminded him of that infamous quote. I told him that I was crushed that night and there was no way to change my decision. He continued to try, but I kept reminding him and even told him to start dating other girls. He finally quit and found someone else.

I went back to being a predator.

RedSox did not enjoy hearing this story. He slept on it last night to sort through it better, and he gave his response today. It was simple, sweet, direct.

"I could see you as my girlfriend."

I reciprocated.

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Pre-Marital Sex

RedSox grew up in a Christian home just like I did. He has a super religious mom just like mine. I feel very comfortable talking about religious stuff with him, and he knows the Bible better than anyone I know. He's a good boy... dating a bad girl.

RedSox and I started out dating, dropped down to the friendship level, then picked things up with a hook-up... a hook-up that I initiated. We didn't have sex though, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one who wound up naked.

After a while (2 weeks) of no-sex hook-ups, I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped him and demanded sex. He was hesistant, "I haven't had sex in a really long time." Umm me neither. It's been a few weeks.

I later found out a long time for him was 2 years, and I felt proud that I could break his dry-spell.

This past Sunday RedSox came to church with me. Right before the service ended, the pastor announced a seminar called "Sex and Dating" was to follow the service. RedSox punched my leg and asked if I brought him to church to attend the seminar. I told him I had no intention of going.

The truth is that I did want to go, but I hadn't thought about it since I was supposed to be in Denver. We didn't end up going, but we discussed the topic on the ride back to his place. Redsox boldly asked, "why do you have pre-marital sex?"

After a tirade of bullshit, I told him the truth. I am not perfect. I'm last in line to get into Heaven, if I even am allowed in. I am not doing the best I can. I'm doing the best I am going to do.

I'm afraid of what will happen without sex. Sex is my weapon. It is my defense. I don't have to have deep discussions with my partner. I don't have to get to know him. Best of all, I don't have to let him in to get to know me.

It was a bit of a shocker to realize that... let alone admit it. I turned to RedSox and apologized for pressuring him into sex. I knew I did at the time, but I never took his feelings or thoughts into consideration.

I told him that if he wanted to slow down or even stop having sex, I would be willing to try. We didn't have sex that night, but I'm not sure if we will stop.

I do know that we will slow down, truly get to know each other and try to have a pre-marital relationship.

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There's a new sugar daddy in town

I love to shop, but I am what one might call a budget fashionista. I don't buy anything unless I absolutely love it. I will try to get the best deal possible. If there is a rewards program, a contest, anything involving the word FREE... I'm involved.

While this has worked incredibly well for me, I can't help but yearn for more. I love Gucci, Dior, Louis, and all up and coming designers. I find myself complaining that I need a sugar daddy.

I've searched for one. I've tried out a couple, but I guess I'm not really up for it. The reality is I want to be spoiled by a man who WANTS to spoil me and by a man I WANT to spoil me. This is rare. This is difficult. This is damn near impossible.

Or is it?

A few weeks ago, RedSox brought up a dating website that is for sugar daddys/babies. He thought it was hilarious... I told him I had a profile on it.

He wasn't surprised, nor was he was he shocked when I told him about LV. The only thing he found surprising was that I didn't spend more money. Wha?

We never really talked about it again, but RedSox would drop snipits here and there whenever I talked about my latest purchase. "You know... I could have bought that for you."

I brushed him off. I was afraid to have someone I actually liked, someone who's company I enjoyed, someone I respected buy stuff for me. I almost feared it would cheapen our relationship.

Saturday after brunch, RedSox asked me what I wanted to do. We were already on Newbury Street (the Rodeo Drive/Rue Montmartre/5th Avenue of Boston). I suggested going to the movies or going shopping. He wanted to go shopping.

We went into Diesel first. They had stuff for both sexes. Neither one of us liked anything. Then we went into a cheap jewelry store. I needed to plug some of the holes in my head. I picked out a few earrings and went to the register to pay. RedSox asked me if I wanted him to pay.

I was caught off-guard but replied with "It's only $20, not a big deal for me." His response was that it wasn't a big deal for him either, and out came his credit card.

Fine... a few earrings.

We went upstairs to Bebe. Is it me or is the one on Newbury the "slutty" one. I know every salesgirl was wearing Bebe... but dayam! It was booty-fest 2007!!

Nothing good in Bebe for me. I wanted to go to Jasmine Sola because their was a top/mini dress I wanted to purchase. I picked it out and tried it on for RedSox. While I was in the fitting room, he went off and grabbed tons of jeans for me to try. I tried them for him. Then he grabbed a Lacoste shirt and a belt. Everything looked good, but I just wanted to buy what I came for and leave.

He wanted me to get a pair of Rock & Republic jeans, Lacoste top and red belt. I didn't want to spend the money. He said he would buy them. I said "how about I buy my top and the belt. You can get the jeans and Lacoste top?"

At the register he cut me off and paid for it all.

Le sigh.

That's when I called him my Sugar Daddy...

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So I'm still in Boston

As you may or may not know, the northeast was hit with a ridiculous snowstorm yesterday. Jetblue cancelled over 200 flights, but mine was still on time. RedSox drove me to the airport a few hours earlier so we could hang out together before I went to Denver. Funny how only a few hours later I would be with another man.

We sat in the bar until 10 minutes before I was supposed to board. The screen still had my flight as On Time. I went to my gate and asked about the status of my flight. Our plane was up in Maine, but in transit. Our new take-off time would be half an hour later. I told them to update the computers.

I went back to the bar where RedSox had made a new friend. We sat for another half an hour and finally learned that my flight had been cancelled. I got on the phone with Jetblue, but was told that the next available flight would be 2 days later... kinda makes for a short and pathetic trip.

I called WhiteRapper to let him know I wasn't coming. He was really bummed, but understood. I felt happy... and relieved.

I know if I went to Denver, I would have hooked up with WhiteRapper. It's what I do. It's the predator in me. I also know it would have been completely meaningless for me... but meaningful for WhiteRapper.

I had to let this prey escape. I had to admit that I didn't want to do what I was going to do in Denver. I had to own up to the truth. I'm committed to RedSox.

I think I'm going to throw up.

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A Private Practice with a White Picket Fence

Growing up, we kids were taught to be independent. "Do well in school, study hard, get a good job! You must be able to take care of yourself. Don't depend on others. When we're gone, you have to stand on your own two feet!"

So that is what Sister and I have been trying to do. We did really well in school. We went to great colleges. We're doing well in the medical field. (Ok I still have 1000 years left to go, but she is an Attending). We're loving life and enjoying our independence as best as we can.

I say as best as we can because a few years ago, our parents (mom) turned the tables. Suddenly we were told to get married. You heard me. "Find a husband to take care of you, give us grandkids, once you get married we can relax."

I was appalled, but I haven't felt it as much as Sister. The second she graduated medical school, mom was on her ass. "Are you dating anyone?" Dad was already checking online, arranged-marriage websites. It didn't end. It still hasn't. It is officially harassment.

Dad has stepped back. I'm sure only superficially to make mom look like the bad guy... and because we have reamed him out... and he freaks out when women gang up on him.

Now they're slowly but surely starting on me. They're not quite sure how to go about it though. I'm a bit of a firecracker when they try to dictate my life. I do whatever will keep me in control... and allow me to spend their money.

Not only do I tend to do what my parents want, I also tend to do what I want. The desires are often polar opposites, but I manage to get both done.

I'm not quite stuck, but I know I'm miserable right now. I love medicine, but I hate medical school. I really like RedSox, but I fear missing out on something better... someone better...

I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I'll be able to have both. Somebody is going to be disappointed, and I'm pretty that person will be I.

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Relationship Milestones... huh?

There are a lot of "milestones" that I don't get. I wasn't raised to think that these things are a big deal, but apparently they are. Here are my thoughts:

1. Taking the guy I'm dating to a wedding.
What is the big freakin deal? I'm not inviting him to a wedding to plant seeds of marriage in his mind. I'm inviting him because there is gonna be an open bar, and I'd like to guarantee the sex for the evening so that I can focus my time on drinking rather than flirting.

2. Having a toothbrush at his place.
This is not the next step in a relationship. This is not any step. I don't have any cavities, and I plan to keep things that way. I don't like bad breath. I hate carrying my toothbrush around.

3. Meeting his friends.
I tend to meet a guy's friends at the same time that I meet him... my guy is the winner.

4. Spending the night at his place.
umm... quite often the night I meet him or the second date. What? I've got needs.

5. Meeting his parents.
This one is ALWAYS his choice and his doing. I never get nervous. My education and my parents money pretty much guarantee they love me.

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The Itinerary

"Everything's booked, confirmed, and ready to be enjoyed. I just wrapped up our itinerary and attached it to this exciting email which you are now reading. Gosh, this all still seems so weird and fun! ((((Meeting a girl on myspace, getting to know her, girl buys plane ticket to Denver to meet guy she's never met, guy plans entire weekend getaway with girl he's never met)))

It's going to be so much fun Roxy. You are really going to have a grand tour of Colorado. Check out the COLORADO plan of attack I attached."

FRI NIGHT 3/16: Head straight to Evergreen, CO for a night at a Bed & Breakfast with a view of a waterfall and Mount Evans (chill…drink wine…unwind…maybe we can put some time in at the hot tub)

SAT 3/17: HIKE in Evergreen, head to Down Town Denver, check-in, go out and party for St Patty’s until exhaustion or drunkenness become us.

SUN 3/18: Wake up, go to church, head to Estes park. Check out Garden of the Gods, then check into to our Cabin and drink wine…and??

MON: Lunch at John Elway’s Steak House… WhiteRapper’s house… meet Zidane (his cat)


I have never dated a man who planned anything. Ok maybe a date here and there.

But I'm excited. We have never even met, and look at everything he has already done for me.

Did I mention RedSox is driving me to the airport and picking me up?

(I know you are all DYING to know what he thinks about my trip... I'll let you know soon enuf)

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Real World Denver

I was pretty new to Myspace when WhiteRapper messaged me about 2 years ago. I was still focused on friendster, so it was fun to get to know new people through the Myspace venue.

He was from Colorado, had a thing for Indian girls and found my profile through a random search. He liked what he saw and read, and our conversations began. We started with myspace, moved to regular emails and then he called me.

We chatted regularly for a while. Nothing spectacular, just a faraway friend to get to know. But then the phone calls stopped, we lost touch and I started medical school.

About 3 months ago, WhiteRapper picked things back up with emails. He had lost my myspace profile and wanted to re-connect. We became friends again and he started asking when I was coming out to Denver to visit.

I had no intention of ever planning to visit him in Denver. I would tell him that I wouldn't come out unless he paid. He didn't like the idea, so that pretty much guaranteed we would stay on our respective sides of the country.

But then Jetblue announced an incredible deal to Denver. I had a lot of fears with RedSox, and in that moment I reverted to my old predator self. I bought my ticket and emailed WhiteRapper to let him know I was coming. I fly out a week from now.

This is the Real World baby... the Roxy World... Denver.

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Cover Girl

I don't wear make-up. A little bit of eye-liner once in a while, but my pencil is YEARS old... and I have yet to sharpen it.

I don't like the idea of "looking like i'm not wearing anything." Clearly I am. So if I'm going to wear make-up why not be an artist's canvas? Make it fun, make it fabulous, make sure it comes off...

Last night RedSox asked me if I ever wear make-up. "You are really hot, so wouldn't make-up make you look even HOTTER?"

Yes. It absolutely does, but I fear becoming an illusion. I fear becoming one who looks great at bedtime, but hideous in the morning. I fear I will try to find imperfections to cover up. I fear I will waste a lot of money on stuff that I will never use.

I have been blessed with good skin, large eyes and pouty lips. I don't think make-up would do anything, but I asked Roomate for her opinion. She has an entire drawer dedicated to make-up.

She asked me if I thought she looked really different with make-up. No

She asked me if she looks hideous in the morning. No

She asked me to try.

So I did... and I think I like it.

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Yes, looks do matter

RedSox and I went to lunch with his friends today, and a video from the past was the topic of conversation.

In 8th grade, RedSox and his friend went to Universal Studios and did a Star Trek video where they played the role of officers in training superimposed on actual film from Star Trek movies. The video was hilarious because of their poor acting skills, their trekkie suits... and RedSox as a pork chop with coke-bottle glasses.

Afterwards, we watched a video from his senior year of high school where he and a couple of friends acted out Canto I of Dante's Inferno. I nearly had a heart attack when 18 y.o. RedSox appeared on the screen. He was HOT HOT HOT! Seriously.

I know I have had a ton of issues about his weight, but I got over them. Then I see what he looked like in high school. Holy Crap!

I waited until his friends left and out it came, "You were wicked hot in high school!"

RedSox joked how funny it is that every girl who has seen his Inferno video has made the same comment. He then asked me if I think he would be better looking if he lost weight.

You know how guys freak out when women ask "Does this make me look fat?"

Yeah that's how I felt.

I told him that after all these months I clearly found him attractive. Losing weight would be better for his health... 1, 2, 3... "YES YES, I do think you would look hotter if you lost some weight."

Gawd I felt like an ass, but with-holding the truth has NEVER been my forte.

Thankfully, RedSox wasn't offended. He appreciated my honesty and thinks he should drop a few pounds. Once his stress at work is over, he plans to get back into boxing.

I know what I'm about to say is completely superficial but if he can drop down to his high school physique, I think I will have the man of my dreams.

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Waiting

When I was a kid I hated participating in after school activities. No sports, no camp, no music lessons, no anything! But I enjoyed playing tennis, I liked camp, I was (still am) a good piano player.

So why did I hate doing all of this?

Because my father never picked me up on time.

A poor excuse to be a quitter or a talent-waster, but a valid one.

It didn't matter that he knew exactly when to come get me. The man operated as if the watch on his wrist was broken. 30 mins to an hour is often how long I had to wait. It was embarrassing when the kid whose lesson was after me got picked up before I did. Even worse is when it was our turn to carpool and my friend had to wait too.

It's no wonder I hate waiting and I will do whatever I can to avoid it.

The other day when RedSox tells me he'll come pick me up so I can study at his office while he works, I thought Great! This will be a good way to get stuff done and spend time together.

I figured he would get me within 20 minutes. Almost 1 hour later I still hadn't heard from him, so I get back online and shoot him a message. He got sidetracked with something and he's hopping in the shower right away.

This isn't the first time he has had me waiting. I tell him that he asked me to come study at 2pm. It is now 3pm. If he is not going to get to my school by 4pm, just don't bother.

At 3:50pm he calls to tell me he is nearby. Somehow it took another 20 minutes before I got in his car at 4:08pm.

To me waiting is torture because there is no purpose behind the time wasted. I have no idea what is going on. I also hate calling because I don't want to be a nag, so I "tastefully" space my phone inquiries.

I tell this to RedSox. I tell him how my dad did this to me. I tell him I am not interested in going through it ever again.

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