Frankly, I'm Loosing My Mind!

(disclosure: this post was written after  consuming a bottle of ‘Royal Bitch’ Merlot)

6 months. 

6 months. 

6 MONTHS – people. Since I’ve had sex. I thought I’d just throw that out there as the frustration has reached new heights. I haven’t gone six months without sex since 1998 – and at that time….I was a virgin!!!!

Sure it was all fun and games after 3 months and I was all caught up in holiday craziness. Thinking about the Virgin Mary and the birth of the baby Jesus were the only things keeping my mind off the lack of sex. Then the whirlwind of January, my London via Texas three week excursion also definitely a diversion. 

Then February – definitely diversions in Feburary – nothing too distracting though leaving more time to think about what I wasn’t getting. 

Now March. I have begun my dating fiesta. I’m currently ‘dating’ (as in gone past a first date) several adorable men. Tex – unfortunately, apparently the fact that I wore down his battery didn’t sit too well. However, we have Rugby, the Pastor (whole new story), LAX and Boss Man (we had drinks. He was all eager to do it again – who knows if he’s feeling the ‘Scarlett Spark’ yet, but I’m hopeful. This one is a marathon, people – not a sprint). 

At any rate, I’ve had a fair number of ‘first kisses’, good first kisses (because, well, the others just get kicked to the curb), and so reminding me what I’m missing. Reminding me how intoxicating a good kiss can be. Making me long for more drawn out kissing sessions…which lead to other sessions. Making me remember how much I’ve missed being physically close to someone. 

I’m not talking about one night stands – the flame burning within me right now is far hotter than even the best anonymous encounter could put out. 

So to recap – I’m frustrated. Oh – and on Top on that – I’ve totally given up sugar for lent. Which means…no chocolate!!! My last hope for any semblance of solace.

Oh well – on a lighter note – Happy St. Patty’s day!! For those of you Non, Micks - please see one of my all time favorite posts for a guide on surviving the day.

 

This redheaded Irish Girl will be giving homage at the Dubliner starting at noon. See you there!!

Frankly, 

Sex & The Red Carpet

Instead of regaling you with tales of my date with Irish on Friday (i.e. the BEST SEX of my LIFE) – I've chosen to add a few opinions and commentary on last night's Oscar celebration. After all, what kind of pop-culture obsessed, aspiring bitchy fashionista would I be if I didn’t give you a play by play of the red carpet??

There I was, watching all of the glitz, the glam, the extensions…in tres fabulous homebody mode in boxer shorts, a grey, faded U of M sweatshirt, my favorite pink, fuzzy slippers and the perfect accessory: a freshly popped bottle of champange. What more could a girl want, right? Well, I'll tell you. I WANT TO WEAR A PRETTY DRESS and spend hours having my hair done, my makeup professionally applied, my nails manicured, spray tan applied and my own personal fashion consultant!!!!

Sigh. Pout. 

But even in the far more subdued glamor style of fuzzy slippers I still felt compelled to provide a stream of conscious-type commentary.

The Oscars: The Good

Of course the Oscars bring out the beautiful people of the silver screen - however - watching all of these just incredibly stunning women makes me just want to give up!

Penelope – you looked AMAZING!!! While I prefer you in your signature black dress, you looked equally alluring in your pale shaded ball gown. Equally poised was your acceptance speech. Bravo.

Natalie Portman – I frequently reel over her performance in "Closer", but she is just such a perpetually stunning woman. 

 

Kate Winslet – Congrats to you, Kate with your Academy Award and thank you for giving us girls with curves something to aspire to (i.e. not size negative 4). Also, hands down my favorite dress of the night (with Reese Witherspoon coming in at a close second). Apparently the one shoulder statement was tres en vogue this year. I’ll have to remember that for my next black tie event….of course by the time that comes around – who knows!?

Angelina: YES YES for the green jewelry with the black dress. Understated. Classic. Bravo.

Jen: GOOD FOR YOU! Way to walk on stage looking stunning directly in front of your ex and the women that he left you for. I know I personally could not do it with your grace and poise no matter now many millions of people were watching. Then again they were on a 7 second delay and who knows WHAT went on in the theatre while they were rolling the animation clips. What do you think Brad was thinking as he watched her? Hm.

Incidentally – did you see the RED!? Yea for the comeback of the red dress, Amy Adams, Heidi Klum and several others!!!

The Frightful

Woopi – ware you going on safari??? I’m all for leopard print honey but seriously, if Joy doesn’t berate you on the View tomorrow for your fashion…choice of dress…that is blatant censorship. 

SJP – Maybe I’m just not ‘in the know’ or fashion forward enough to appreciate this “mint” colored froufrou dress. Carrie – you know I love ya, but ….I wasn’t a fan. 

Beyoncee – May I just say, “no”. NO NO NO. She looked like a piece of Greek pottery! This dress violated every rule of curvy girl fashion, mainly #1 - NO MERMAID DRESSES! Those dresses are for women who have figures a la 10-year old boys and need at accentuate any curves they have. 

Jessica Biel – was I the only one who thought her dress looked like the towel that I wrap around myself when I come out of the shower? Seriously – it looks like she wrapped some fabric around herself and then tucked it in in front. 

Thus conculdes my not so deep Oscar Night thoughts.

Now back to the sex. 

To make a long story short (and I will share the long story at another time) – when I said “the BEST sex EVER” – I wasn’t referring to literal physical intimacy. I was referring to the absolute INSANE fantasies that plagued me all weekend following the hands down, most amazingly sexy kiss, I’ve EVER received. 

Definitely an Oscar worthy leading man.

Frankly,

Trade Offs

Its AMAZING how much time one finds on one’s hands when one is NOT getting laid. The inverse correlation of battery purchases to lack of sex is ALSO astounding (energizer keeps going and going my ass!)

And so here’s what I’ve been up to to keep busy:

FOOD

Now lest you get an unpleasant image of Scarlett’s ass spreading out of control, let me assuage your fears. The food I’m referring to, is the food I’ve been COOKING. #7 on the list of phrases you’d never thought you’d see me write! (Sandwiched between “Don’t pop the cork on that bottle Veuve” and “Stylist, please make me a brunette!”)

So ya, Rachael Ray is my hero and Food Network is my new best friend (don't judge). Some of the especially tasty things I’ve made recently include: Pumpkin Penne Pasta, Gorgonzola filled meatballs in a red cream gravy and chicken marcella. On the sweet side, homemade caramel corn, white chocolate peppermint candy, beautifully decorated sugar cookies, kaluah chocolate cookies and candy cane cookies. 

Ta Da!! Impressed? I sure as hell am! 

ART
One of the many reasons the I have taken a posting hiatus – I reacquainted myself with an old friend – the stage. Yep! Cheesy though it may sound, in the middle of September, I tried out for a play! And amazingly enough, I got cast! And so for September and October, after working all day, I would come home long enough to feed my cat, put on a pair of jeans and run to the theatre where I would work for another four hours. In November, we gave 12 performances, Thursday – Sunday. Suffice it to say….I was a tired girl. But a tired girl who got a rave review in the Post!

Exhausting as it was, I have seriously not felt so good about myself or my life in a VERY long time!

WORK
Professionally speaking, I’m absolutely shining. I’m being recognized for my talent and ability by some of the most impressive and powerful people in Washington, if not the world. I’m truly living my Washington dream – and its everything I hoped it would be.

TRAVEL
In the past few months I’ve spent a significant amount of time in New York, Dallas, Chicago and my absolute FAVORITE: CALIFORNIA!! I never imagined that I would fall in love with the west coast – lord was I wrong!

Driving along the PCH with the top down on my rented convertible glistening in a color that can only be described as “fuck me red.” The mountains on my left, the ocean on my right. Then sitting, curled up in the sand on a beach in Orange County, watching the sun set over the Pacific…le sigh. 

Truly amazing.

LOVE
A very uninteresting topic for me these days – needlessly complicated – as my romantic endeavors usually are.  I’ll expound eventually.

There you have it. All in all…I think it was all worth the no sex trade off. 

Frankly a girl can’t live on ocean air, amazing home cooked meals, artistic fulfillment and copious amounts of self esteem alone. 

Then again……

Extra Small??

Does size matter?

Ahhh...the age old question that has plagued man-kind since women first left their caves in search of "greener" pastures and greater sexual satisfaction. Well, in some cases, apparently size does, in fact, matter. (Shocker). And so I say to these men - embrace your um...petiteness. Stand up tall and say "YES! I need the Extra Small Profilactics, please!"

Just steer clear of redheads ...cuz if you ever managed to get one into bed...she'd probably laugh at you.

Speak up, sir...You need the extra small condoms?

Fri Dec 8, 2006 8:22 AM ET
NEW DELHI (Reuters) - Condoms designed to meet international size specifications are too big for many Indian men as their penises fall short of what manufacturers had anticipated, an Indian study has found.
The Indian Council of Medical Research, a leading state-run center, said its initial findings from a two-year study showed 60 percent of men in the financial capital Mumbai had penises about 2.4 cm (one inch) shorter than those condoms catered for.

For a further 30 percent, the difference was at least 5 cm (two inches). A poor fit meant the prophylactics often didn't do the job they were bought for, and led to some tearing or slipping off during use.

"One of the reasons for a failure of up to 20 percent (of condoms) is the association of the size of the condom to the erect penis," the council's Dr. Chander Puri told Reuters, adding another reason was couples often put them on in a hurry.

Puri said many men in India, which has the world's highest HIV positive caseload, were too shy to ask for condoms.

"We need more vending machines for condoms of different sizes so people can pick a condom with confidence that is suited to their needs," he said.

The Times of India reported the ICMR survey had studied 1,400 men between 18-50 years of age in cities like Mumbai and New Delhi as well as in rural areas in a report. It entitled its story "Indian men don't measure up."

Bad Boys Bad Boys; Whatcha Gonna Do?

Sunday night at around 7:45 p.m., my phone started ringing off the hook – My father in Dallas, my mother in Michigan, my supervising VP, my best friend in Chicago…all to tell me “Russell Crowe’s coming up on 60 minutes! Thought you’d want to know.”

Well indeed I did. Why? Because I looooooove him!

Why do I loooooooove him? Why do I think he is the sexiest man on the face of the planet? Is it the smirky smile? Is it the ice blue eyes? Is it the amazing talent? Is it those AMAZING arms in Gladiator? Is it the accent? Well….it MAY be the accent. But I think the biggest reason (much to my father’s horror) is that he is…the definitive bad boy.

His irreverence, his temper, his womanizing (until his marriage in 2004 – a tragic day I've yet to recover from), his talent, his intelligence, his ….rugby uniform?

And while we're on the subject, what is it about rugby players that gets me every time? I think it's the fact that they're all beefy (i mean, really, have you ever seen a scrawny rugby player?) and so tough - they don't even wear padding. Plus they USUALLY have accents - and who doesn't love a good accent?

But really....what is it about the "bad boys" that I find so irresistible?

After all, I'm not the only gal who has ever suffered from the bad-boy-bug – women everywhere, throughout history have flocked to these arrogant jerks at their own emotional peril. The dusty, yellowed pages of literature are filled with them (From the sullen Mr. Darcy to the oh so charming Rhett Butler).

They enchant us on the silver screen – James Dean, Colin Ferril, my boyfriend, Russell.

Even on the Broadway stage – Danny Zucco, and The Phantom of the Opera. Incidently, Gerard Butler’s portrayal of the Phantom in movie version is – easily the sexiest pice of film ever created.

But seriously, what is it? Is it that they don’t NEED us? Is it that there’s something just inherently sexy in arrogance, is it their ‘badness’ that makes them special? Is it the fact that they're somehow off limits? That we still need to rebel against our parents in some way? Is it their uniqueness - the fact they stand out in a crowd? Lets face it – we ALL want someone ‘special’ because it increases our real estate value by association. It’s more challenging. The thrill of the hunt and the chase. I’m sure it stems from much the same reason as the Men love Bitches mentality. But really it’s ultimately masochistic.

Think about it. The badder they are – the more you want them.

While watching the Russell Crowe interview I realized how long and sordid my history with ‘bad boys’ really is. In fact, he reminds me, much to my father’s shigrin, of not one, but many of my exs.

His eyes with their impish sparkle and intense blue-ness reminds me of my high school boyfriend – TOTAL bad boy. Punk rocker, brilliant, crazy, an Olympic athlete, piano prodigy, wore combat boots, anarchy t’s, introduced me to the Sex Pistols, Russian poetry and Marlboro Reds.

His accent and long hair remind me of the South African ropes instructor, take charge attitude (be still my heart)…amazing sex....crazy sex...(and to think he was a virgin when i met him) . He's actually visiting the states right now - and I may see him next weekend...wouldn't that be interesting after 6 years.

His physique - completely reminicient of the football player of 2005 – athletic, cocky, competitive. Besides the punk rocker, I eventually came to my senses and broke up with all of them.

Maybe I'll come to my senses one day but until then....I'm sure I still have a bad boy or two in my future.

Men Love Bitches

It's True. Men love bitches.

A phenomoneon I’ve long suspected but never really had the chance to explore. There are books devoted to this subject. I must confess one of these little self-help gems is on the floor next to my bed. Great advice, however, I find that when I like a guy, I can't HELP but be nice...accomodating...which leads to me being COMPLETELY taken for granted.

But it's AMAZING how easy being a bitch comes to me #1. while i'm working. #2. when I'm NOT ineterested in the particular guy and #3. when I'm on a self-proclaimed dating hiatus. SO I engaged in the following txt exchange not with the alterior motives suggested in the afore mentioned non-fiction, just under fircumstances #1-3. I inadvertantly tested this theory and good god - the nice thing is overrated.

Background: This is a man (The Professor) who I briefly fooled around with when I first moved here. So I was 22, he was 27ish. We never did much outside of his apartment, I started to get attached, wanted to date, he wanted someone older (i.e. not me), we stopped chatting. Then the acquaintence was accidentially renewed when ran into eachother (he was teaching at the grad school I was attending)…and I had this teacher fantasy….blah blah blah. Again, it didnt end in a dating scenario.

ANYWAYS I have not seen this man in about 2 years but apparently I Imd him Friday night at 4 a.m. (I think I Imd everyone at 4 a.m.) So he’s been txting me. I should also mention that #1. I gave up the f*ck-buddy/friends w/ benefits scenario a looong time ago. #2. I have since dated MUCH cuter, smarter, and sexier boys…I have upgraded…I’m over it.

After blowing him off for a few days, here are excerpts from our exchange (with obvious translations and interpretations):

Hi
Sup?
How is the hottest girl in DC?

Fine - when did I win THAT contest? (oh PULAH-EESE)

Confirmed bachelors of DC took a poll (at least he's creative)

Great - nice to know I'm loved (eye roll)

Whatcha up to?

Good! Busy. Working. (i.e. hello – I’m annoyed, talk to me later. )
You work too much - And don’t spend enough time keeping me entertained at work
no time (stop making my phone vibrate!)
You should call me this weekend if you’re bored
I’m seldom bored – so you’ll have to give me another reason
Call me if you want me to XXXXXX (edited to keep this blog at least rated PG-13 minimum)
Haha! I rarely call men but if would like to take me out, I’m free next week (i.e. I will NOT be your booty call, because I’m fabulous and you... not so much – so if you want to hang out with me there should at least be dinner involved. HEY a girl’s gotta eat!)
I am leaving on Sunday for a trip
Well Have Fun! (yea! Conversation over?)
Wow you’re passing on this weekend that quickly? (persistant little bastard)
I don’t have time for you to take me out this weekend
Shame, I miss you (since when do you even THINK about me? Ohhh…since I started not caring?)
I’m sorry – just booked we’ll do something when you get back
Oh well - When you get done with your lame date on Friday night then call me
Who said it was a date? And I don’t call men
Then I’ll call you when your lame “non date is at its lowest point (I have a date…with a group of girls and a martini the size of my face...not that he needs this detail)
Expect a call from me
Um…Ok – can’t promise I’ll answer, or meet up…(just being honest)
I’ll be convincing
Cant wait (should be good bloging material if nothing else)
Where are you going out?
Dupont
Very nice, I’ll be sure to be by to pick you up when you start to yawn
Uh huh (who are you? I’m sure I’ll be albe to get back to my apartment fine by myself)
Yawn? Who says I’ll be sleepy?
Oh I know you won’t those yawns will be to make him go home early. Just send him to a markup vote when you get bored (making fun of the fact that I once dated a government official)
Haha – we’ll see
We shall – I hope you wear something fun
Ur getting ahead of yourself
I’m trying to help you on your date
Well thank you, Yenta

My pleasure

Good lord. Should be interesting to see if he does in fact try to hook up with me tonight. Don't worry, I am in NO danger whatsoever of being seduced by the Professor.

But why is this? Why do men ALWAYS want what they cant have? Be nice to a guy and he takes you for granted, gets bored, and you eventaully break up. Be mean, bitchy, and uninterested and he'll chase you until you get a restraining order or sprain your ankle...whichever comes first. And then men complain about girls being bitches!!! You drive us to it, boys! We're not born like this naturally - we're NICE we WANT to do nice things we WANT to show affection WITHOUT it coming back to bite us in the ass! Ugh - maybe that's my problem. I just need to be in bitch mode 24/7 - after all, I do it very well.

Ya'll have a GREAT weekend!

Nine hours...

Reading all of the musings and reminiscences of yesterday, September 11th, five years prior, I began thinking about how just one day – one random day – and one random moment has the ability to change the course of events in a person’s life or impact it significantly. One minute your life is in order…makes sense…and the next…

I was reluctant to post this entry as its subject is not one of levity and I know I am potentially opening the door to scrutiny. But I have found that since starting this blog, thinking things through and letting thoughts flow via my keypad has proven to be cathartic. Perhaps it is at times like these that a certain amount of anonymity comes in handy even though some friends of mine do read this blog. Besides, I've never exactly been one to hold back.

A friend of mine came to me and told me she had been the victim of an unconsensual sexual experience. You can imagine my shock. I do not feel the need to describe the circumstances, just that apparently over 80% of women who are sexually assaulted know their attacker.

When she woke up the next morning, sore and bruised, she tried to shake it off. It didn’t happen. She had had sex before…hooked up…sometimes regretted it, sometimes not…why was this any different? Well, because she hadn’t planned on doing it. Because she didn’t want to hook up. Because she had said "no".

So while attempting to shake it off she moped around the house, spent most the day on the couch, and avoided most human interaction. Unmotivated. Numb. Unhappy. Confused.

She called a friend and relayed the course of events. Of course she expected the outrage, she herself was very uncomfortable with what happened, obviously. She was still in disbelief. But what she didn’t expect was for her friend to say – “You were raped. You need to go to the hospital NOW”.

And go she did but just to make sure she was OK physically. She didn’t want to press charges. She didn’t want to over dramatize. She just wanted to be responsible and take care of her body. And move on with her life. But her spirit was another matter. To make sure she was OK mentally she called a counselor who met her at the hospital.

And they waited.

Nine hours they waited. Nine hours under fluorescent lights. Nine hours of scrub-clad men and women, limping patients and overworked nurses walking in and out of those swinging doors waiting for her name to be called. Nine hours of sitting there, thinking about why she was waiting and why she couldn't leave. Nine hours of talking with the counselor. Nine hours of making jokes to ease the tension, crying, feeling detached, feeling numb, feeling afraid, feeling ….sorry. She was so so sorry. She was not limping, or gushing blood, or pale with an illness as the other names on the sign-in sheet. Her pain was internal, it kept running through her mind and created bruises no one could see.

And after she was called, after the Dr.’s had come in, and come out, and said words like HIV, STDs, therapy, exam, lacerations, sample, bruising, shots, pills….she cried…and then cried some more. She ached inside and wanted to die. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and away from her head.

She wanted to feel like she did last week, when the world made more sense, when her life felt like her own, when the decisions she made were still hers.

I’ve been trying to think what I should do to help her make this as painless as possible, make her recovery as complete and as swift as I can. But guilt is a powerful thing and it seems to block out everything that is said. The thing I have kept telling her is….

It’s not your fault…
It’s not your fault…
It’s not your fault…

Maybe if I keep saying it…someday I’ll believe it.