A New Beginning

First of all, I would like to thank everyone of you bloggers that has in some way cared enough to leave me comments of encouragement and also the really thoughtful emails I've received. I never imagined that faceless, nameless strangers online would care that much, and you've all made me glad I joined KBW. Thanks for all the moral support.

So, it's that time of year again. The time when many people reflect back to the previous year and count their blessings (or lack of), time to make those useless resolutions you know you're gonna break by day two of the new year. I used to be the kind to make lots of resolutions. So many in fact, that I would write them down on a list and save that list until the end of the year. On New Year's Eve, I would take out that list and count how many resolutions I had kept. Not surprisingly, the figure was always none. To me, this was just another one of those stupid traditions I kept simply cuz they existed. And so when I went off to college, I abandoned the tradition altogether, seeing it as a waste of time.

Last year though, something changed. Lilly and I were having one of our usual "arguments" and she was accusing me of being too "set in my ways". I had no spontaneous bone in me back then and if something was not on my agenda, then I wasn't gonna do it. As a challenge, she made a bet with me and as a result of that bet, I made my one and only new year's resolution: to be a little more open-minded and try new things. This time, I had to actually try and keep the resolution or else I would cough $1000 at the end of the year. And so my year started with a skiing trip, a skill I still don't have, and one I'll probably never muster. Why in the world anyone would go freeze their butt for hours on a mountain is beyond me. But, I had lots of fun and kept up the spirit all year. As a result, I had the most wonderful year I have ever had in my entire life. I did not let the fear of the unknown stop me from accepting a challenge and I made it a point to go out of my way to try and do things that would ordinarily make me uncomfortable. This was the best new year's resolution I ever made, and it's the only one I've ever kept.

In the spirit of trying new things, I've decided to make another resolution for next year. One I'm tempted to say "no thanks" to, but I'll accept as a personal challenge. Steve (God bless this man. Maybe I should start taking his marriage talk seriously) asked me what my new year's resolutions were gonna be for next year. I hadn't really thought that far ahead and I really wasn't planning on making any. One of his resolutions is to read the entire Bible and he asked me to embark on the journey with him. It's been a couple of years since I last opened my Bible on my own outside of church. I thought back to the days in high school when I truly believed in God and put God first in everything I did. Back then, I used to read my Bible everyday and would even buy those small devotional books (remember "Daily Bread" anyone?) I'm not sure at what point in my life exactly I became disillusioned, but it happened all the same. And so with very little resistance, I accepted that as my one resolution for 2007. To read the Bible. I don't know where that's gonna lead, but I do know that a year is a very long time for your life to turn completely around. I only have to read my diary from a year ago and compare it with my diary entries from this week to know how true this is.

And so with the new year, I'm ready for a new beginning. I feel like I'm on the verge of something big happening in my life, and whatever direction my life takes, I hope I can look back a year from today and be grateful for the change. Happy New Year KBW!

The Aftermath

It's been almost three weeks now since my best friend decided to end her life in a most tragic way. Seems like the longest three weeks of my life. I've been floating around, barely conscious of myself or anything else around me. Yesterday, the police officially closed her file. Conclusion? It was a suicide. Duh! Like we didn't already know that? They kept insisting that they wanted to make sure there was no foul play involved before they could definitely rule it as a suicide. This is not some CSI shit...that's all I wanted to scream so they could leave me the hell alone. I have never felt my privacy so violated, I have never in my life been so scrutinized before. After all, she was my best friend and I should have known if something was amiss, right? Goddamit! I didn't even know she was gonna kill herself! There was no note left behind, no explanation, no last words.

So many emotions and thoughts running amok in my mind. At first I was angry that she would be so selfish and leave her family and friends forever wondering "what if..." Then the guilt set in. How can I be angry at a dead person? Perhaps I should have seen it coming, paid attention to all the little clues she kept giving me. Like the time she asked the rhetorical question: "If you had a choice on how you die, what would choose?" I never thought anything of it, just her being silly as usual. So we discussed death that day, both of us deciding that being shot, drowning and burning to death had to be the most painful ways to die. I should have wondered why she brought up the topic, but I didn't.

And so I've spent the last three weeks crying, getting angry, feeling guilty, and eventually just accepting reality. She's gone. That simple fact struck me only yesterday when I reached for my phone. It had been ringing off the hook and by thanksgiving I was so irritated I switched it off. So I turned it on and I had 103 voicemails, none of which I intend to listen to. My fingers automatically went to speed dial my gal's number, and then I stopped myself. I will never again hear her voice. She was so full of energy and always brought a smile to my face when she said "hello". Even if she was bored to death or had just woken up, she somehow managed to sound like she was in the middle of a very exciting activity. Cheerfulness, the one self defense mechanism she taught me. "If people always think you're happy, they'll never have a reason to ask you what's wrong" is the logic she used. And she put it to practice. But never around me. I was perhaps the only person she ever gave the opportunity to ask her if something was wrong. And I always knew when she was lying and needed a little cajoling to come out with it.

Now, I have no one to talk to about the most mundane things. And the not so mundane things. My relationship with Steve is strained and I need advice on how to handle it. I need someone to go with me to the most boring baby shower that was ever had, and I know she's the only person that would have agreed, without whining even once. I keep remembering the first day we met in class 6. I was a new student at the school and I was shy as hell, going through that awkward stage where making new friends is an ordeal. But she walked up to me during break and offered me a Marie biscuit with the words "Stop looking so sad, you'll not be new forever". Somehow, she understood me before she even knew me. Ours wasn't a perfect relationship. No, we had quite a few fights over the years. But never a fight that was too big for us to work things out. But now she's gone. Forever.

And so to my friend Lilly, I say to you. Thank you for being the sister I never had. Thank you for making my life so full of joy and hope. When I was at the lowest point in my life, you somehow made me see that there was a reason to keep going. You saved my life. I wish you hadn't left the way you did, but now that you are gone, I'll try to understand why you did it. I will forever keep your memory alive. Remember that scholarship fund we often talked about starting at our alma mater and always thought it was corny to name it after ourselves since we would be alive? Well, it will be under your name, and for generations everyone at that campus will know what an awesome individual you were. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of love and true friendship. My life will never be the same without you, but I will try to live up to your favorite quote: "Life goes on regardless". R.I.P. my angel.
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To all KBW members who left me a message, thanks for your thoughtfulness. It's only the web, but it still means a lot to me.

What's There to be Thankful for?

It seems like the whole world is full of thanksgiving praises today. Everyone is meaninglessly uttering the words "happy thanksgiving" without giving it much thought. But I can't help but wonder what there is to be thankful for. Sure, many people will point at a zillion things that I could be thankful for today, but none of them seem to matter. I just want my best friend back and I know nothing I do or say will change the fact that she's gone. Forever.

How was I to know that she was already dead inside?
How was I to know when she called me early that morning to thank me for being such a great friend that that would be the last time I heard her voice?
How was I to know when she told me she was sad she wasn't just talking about the usual emotional rollercoaster we all seem to ride at some point?
How was I to know that my best friend was gonna take her own life?

I should have sensed it.
She was my best friend.
She called me to say she missed me and wanted to get together for lunch last week.
But I was too busy.

I was too busy to sit down with my best friend for a lunch that could possibly have saved her life. Her family claims that she was happy and no one could have seen it coming. Everyone's still in shock and the constant police presence, probing questions, and the damn reporters are getting on my nerves.

I knew she was dealing with a lot of things.
I just didn't think it would go that far.
I tried to seek help for her.
I didn't try hard enough.
She didn't even say goodbye.
She didn't leave a note.
I don't know what her last thought was.

I am so overwhelmed right now, I can't think straight. This is the worst week of my life. If one more person sends some stupid text message wishing me a "happy thanksgiving", I'm gonna scream.

I am not happy.
And I am definitely not thankful.
No. Not today.

All I wanna do is curl up in a corner and cry forever.
Cry for my friend and all the pain she endured.
So many things I could have done differently.
But it's too late now.
It's simply too late.

I am having one of "those days". I assume at this point, every female knows exactly what I mean by that statement (sorry for the guys, no way to elaborate further).

A very unfortunate thing happened to one of my friends this past weekend. The kind of thing that makes you wanna scream something like "ALL MEN ARE ASSHOLES", but of course that's absurd, cuz not all men are jerks (this piece of wisdom comes from the fact that I'm in a good relationship. If I were single, it would be a very different statement). Been wanting to blog about it, but it'll probably have several parts to it and I need to embark on the writing when I'm not so mad and incoherent. Instead, I'll write random statements that have nothing to do with anything.
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Baby Oil. Who would have thought magic can be found in baby oil? That it can be used to take you to heaven and back? Maybe I'm the only person on the planet that didn't already know this. But now I do. Since I was 18, full body massages from my boyfriends were never delivered without massage oil. I used to have a fetish for massage oil, and if you can name it, I've probably tried it. Everyone I knew who was in a relationship received massage oil for their birthday because I believed they deserved it. The thought of trying something different never even crossed my mind until Steve came up with this silly fantasy: he wanted to see me covered in baby oil cuz he thought it would be sexy (someone's been watching too many music videos). I tried not to poke fun at this and went along with it. Nothing to lose after all. So what started off as slithering baby oil all over my body turned into a full-blown massage, and it was by far the best massage I ever received. Not to mention the fact that it can do a whole lot of other naughty things....I haven't so much as thought of buying massage oil in four months.
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This is dumb, but what is the equivalent of a wet dream for females? If I remember my class 6 science (or was it class 5) correctly, males have wet dreams when they have erotic dreams and orgasm in their sleep. Nobody mentioned anything about females experiencing the same thing, and I've never really heard about it. But, I have had orgasms in my sleep (and after a lot of prodding, I've finally gotten some of my friends to admit they have too), and I've never figured out whether this has a name or not. So if you just happen to possess that knowledge, wanna share?

Strange Dream

If dreams are a manifestation of your subconscious thoughts, then mine must be pretty messed up. I just had the strangest dream ever and it's actually quite disturbing. There were a whole bunch of people at a party, none of whom I recognized, but had an intuition that I somehow knew them.

I arrive at the party, which is being held in some kind of park. There are people chattering away all over the place. Someone pulls me over and says that they have the best barbecue ready to eat. They open a life-size oven and pull out the meat and lay it on the grass. Only problem is, the meat turns out to be my younger bro, barbecued from the neck down. He's well done, but his head is intact and he starts talking to me. I stare at him and at the person that pulled him out the oven. The person hands me a hack saw and asks me to start cutting up the "meat". Pretty soon, there's a crowd of people gathered around holding plates, waiting for the meat to be served.

I look at my bro's face and he smiles and nods. I start hacking away at his knee and I suddenly start crying, imagining the pain he must be experiencing. The people around me are cheering, my brother's trying to comfort me, and I'm sawing off his legs and thigh, pulling at the "meat" and crying myself senseless. Then I wake up in a cold sweat.

Tree Climbing

I was reading Jadekitten's post where part of it described the scars she got from her days as a tomboy, and that brought back a painful, albeit funny, memory from my childhood that I had long relegated to the recesses of my subconscious.

I was one of those kids whose parents flew to stato when I was a kid, therefore my bro and I ended up being nomads, moving from one family member to another (don't do this to your children people!!) Technically, my bro and I were raised by my grandma, but she was always sick and hospitalized, making it necessary for miscellaneous aunts and uncles to take us in. I think I've always had that rebellious, non-comforming bone in me, and it was no different when I was a kid.

If you were raised in shags, then you know all the bullshit that went along with gender roles. All the "girls are not supposed to wear pants" and "girls should always sit properly so you don't show men your underwear and seduce them" and "girls are supposed to do this and that". Well, I wasn't having any of it, and I often followed my bro and the "shamba boy" to take the cattle grazing, climb trees to get "maperas" and all that kind of stuff that would send my grandma screaming her head off.

This particular morning, I had done the usual chores around the house; washed dishes, swept the house (where were all the child labor laws? Seriously, I was six years old). While my grandma sat on the mat talking to the neighborhood women, I sneaked out and went to the shamba as usual. There was one particular tree I had been trying to climb all week but I didn't seem to get too far and I was getting tired of my bro laughing at me for being a "girl". I was determined to show him that I was no punk and if he could climb the damn tree, so could I.

So there I was, making good progress. My hands were holding onto a branch as I tried to lift my weight off the ground. One branch, two branches, up and up I went. Then...Shit! I was halfway up the tree when my hand slipped and I started my free fall. Lucky for me, there was a branch in my way that stopped me dead, almost literally. My heart was pounding wildly and the adrenaline rush almost masked the pain that was shooting up my spine, coming from my vagina. Great, just great. My bro started laughing, and like a defeated dog, I carefully got down and limped all the way back to the house.

Something was definitely wrong "down there" and the pain got worse and worse. I knew for a fact that I was in trouble, especially if my grandma found out I was climbing trees. A million different excuses ran through my mind, but none of them seemed good enough, even in my juvenile mind. So I slowly sneaked into the house and went to bed, knowing very well that my grandma would have a heart attack at my blatant display of laziness (a girl's not supposed to sleep during the day when there's work to be done, you know).

Eventually, there was no running from it cuz for one, I couldn't walk properly to save my life. My grandma ended up examining my vagina, and deciding that my injuries were serious enough, took me to her elder sister who practiced herbal medicine. The herbs I had to stick up that hole for a few weeks were enough to repel me from herbs for life. And my grandma made sure I put the herbs where they were supposed to go, going so far as to supervise my pee sessions. I guess there is no privacy where children are concerned.

Jade, thanks for that memory. I smiled all day, and for sure I'm calling my grandma this weekend to remind her how "evil" she used to be...LOL.

Decode This for Me

Ok, it's getting a little too serious with all this religion talk. Good topic F.D, it's been awhile since I seriously thought about religion, but I think I'm so done with that for awhile.

Now, back to Steve. He turned 29 a week ago, and he's one of those "I wanna get married and start a family" type guy (can't exactly blame him, he's probably on freak out mode seeing the big "three-oh" is around the corner). Honestly, when we first started dating, I thought it would be another short fling that would definitely be over after a month cuz I thought he would turn out to be like every other guy I'd dated and start trying to talk me into having sex with him. I usually don't become attached emotionally to guys, and can easily walk away unscathed.

The month came and went. I started experiencing emotions I'd never felt before. Somehow, none of my low expectations of him as a guy panned out. Instead, he turned out to be the kind of guy you wish you'd meet, but don't dare hope for. And so we kept dating. After a few months, he made it clear that he was done being in relationships for a joyride and he was looking for something serious. Ok, that's fine honey, except that I'm not looking for anything serious, let alone marriage, kids, etc at this point in my life. So after weeks and weeks of discussing this, we both decided that we should break up before things got too complicated. God knows how short that break up was. So everytime this topic came up, it ended with the line "we should just break up".

Eventually, we decided that it was useless to even try. Whenever I used to think about my future, I imagined myself as this successful career woman trotting around the globe. Marriage and kids never even crossed my mind. Yet, lately I find myself wondering what marriage would be like. Whether or not I can balance a career and a family successfully without going down the "mommy track" or being a horrible mother to my children. Why on earth am I thinking about this? Steve must be brainwashing me with all this bullshit talk.

Ok, so we're in love, but after next summer, we honestly don't know what direction our relationship will take. For some reason, we both seem to think we'll last that long. For now, we're "just dating" for the heck of it as we wait for our fate, the most depressing one being the possibility that I might move to another state so I can pursue a higher degree. That and the fact that we've both decided we want different things out of this relationship and none of us is willing to compromise, which means we have no future together.

So the other night we were just laying in bed talking about a lot of random stuff, when out of nowhere, Steve asked me this question: "What would you do if I got really serious and asked you to move in with me?" I don't know how I got out of this one, but I somehow ended up dodging the question. Now I need someone to decode the question for me. Is he testing me to see how I feel, or was he joking just to get me all hot and bothered, or was he serious? I do realize this is a dumb question to ask, especially since none of you know Steve, but maybe there's a certain guy code that I don't know about. Fire away!

The Future Diplomat...The Response

Wow, I knew I should have checked this page over the weekend, but was having too much fun to dare go near a computer. Advice of the day: Don't EVER arrange for a 6:00 a.m departure flight, with 50 minutes to connect to the next flight, AND expect to somehow make it to work for a 10 - 14 hour shift of gruelling brain activity three hours later. Chances are, you'll wake up late, nearly miss your departure flight, get a one hour flight delay in Chicago due to weather, miss your connecting flight, and arrive at your destination 2 hours later with only an hour to spare before you start work. All that means you'll have to call in at work and tell them you can only work a half day, no point in even trying to lie that you're sick.

Interesting comments on previous post. I can definitely see F.D and Joe rub each other the wrong way (no pun intended BTW). I will have to say that Joe has a point about going to church and finding sinners (you really didn't need to quote all those verses to make your point, but it's well taken). Only problem is, people act as though it's a crime to be a sinner in church, and you'd think some sins are worse than others when clearly, a white lie is as bad as murder; the perpetrators suffer the same fate. So this business of attacking others is truly pointless cuz I can assure you that all the mud slingers are not entirely blameless, just don't walk around thinking you're better off than the next person.

I will be the first to admit that church and christianity as a whole have had a positive influence on my life, just like Kenyangal and plenty of others, I suspect. If I hadn't had that influence, I don't know where my life would be right now, but I do know that it wouldn't be great. At one point in my life, I actually did believe in God, "felt" his presence, prayed for everything, read my bible everyday, and to epitomize it all, I got baptized. However, whatever it was I was searching for, I never found it in God, and I soon realized that to ME, it made no difference whether I prayed, read the bible, etc or not. Things happened anyway. I stopped going to church for a very short period of time, then realized that I'd never really skipped church and my week was never complete if I didn't take that break. So I kept going. And I still go. It's a comfort thing. Not the kind of comfort that makes me think I'm any less of a sinner cuz I go to church, but the kind of comfort I get when I eat I big fatty rich piece of German chocolate cake. And sometimes when I get sick of the "booty this, booty that" songs on radio, I simply switch to the gospel channel. The music is as relaxing as the R & B I adore.

Q, I admire your courage to step outside of christianity and explore other religions. In the end, sounds like you came right back to christianity, perhaps with a better appreciation for it than you did before. At the back of my mind, I don't question God, the existence of God, or any of the other questions many people struggle with. What I do question is His character. Weird? No, I don't know what kind of loving, caring God sits by and watches his people suffer, yet he does nothing about it when they cry out to him for help. That, right there, is my problem. Quite frankly, I don't care much for what other people in the church are doing. I don't care that Ted Haggard had gay sex, bought meth or did whatever, yet continued to preach. Nobody should let other people's hypocrisy affect their faith; after all, you're not worshipping church pastors, other church members or whatever. You're worshipping God.

Having said all that, I still hate hypocrisy, and that's why I refuse to become one of them. My spiritual life is as messy as my emotional one, yet I can't abandon it all together. Maybe someday God will touch me in that special way that others seem to be touched. In the meantime, I will continue being me with a clean healthy conscious. I will never use religion as an excuse for not doing something. Many people prove over and over that's not very effective and only end up living with guilt. Like Legal Kenya pointed out, this is a topic we can discuss till we drop dead, and nothing will have changed.

Religion and Politics. Everyone has their beliefs and nothing you say or do will change those beliefs. So to each his own. All the same, if you're in the U.S. and can legally vote, go out and exercise this freedom. Let your voice be heard and if you don't, then you have no right to bitch about things later. You have your chance, use it. Steve and I are voting tonight after he gets off work.

Ps. As requested, I'll stick to black font. I'm a colorful individual and the different colors do reflect my mood for the day, but I don't want anyone being blinded, so I oblige. Black only for now, until I can't stand it anymore :)

The Future Diplomat

Misleading title, I'm actually responding to the Future Diplomat's sexual morality posts. My response on his blog became too lenghty, so I moved it here.

I see where F.D's coming from and in many ways I can relate to many of his rants. I do go to church (every week in fact, unless I absolutely have something else going on) and I'm very active in that I run the PA system, PowerPoint, coordinate worship service and all the behind-the-scenes things that go to make the service a smooth and enjoyable one. For many observers on the outside, I am a committed christian and many guys around here know me as a "church girl". In reality, that's far from the truth and the only reason I do all those things is that I am good at it and the church could use someone that's willing to do it on a regular basis rather than relying on a volunteer from week to week. I've volunteered at hospitals, my school, at work, and to me, volunteering in church when they need a volunteer is no different. Anyone that's ever cared to ask me about my religious beliefs knows that I go to church out of tradition and not because I consider myself religious, "saved", or any of that stuff. It's just one of those things I've always done.

One of the things about christianity and all this morality bullshit that F.D points out is the hypocrisy that goes along with it. He raises a lot of interesting questions like who decided what books to put in the bible and which ones to leave out, why female sexual freedom is frowned upon etc. Personally, I got to the point in my life where I said fuck religion, fuck culture, I refuse to let those things dictate who I am and how I live my life. Yes, I'm that girl that requires her man to know how to cook and clean cuz I'm no one's housegirl. That I got from my dad. He's the best cook in my family and he's always happy to cook for us and does all the cleaning, even when my mom's around; not your typical African man.

I love masturbating and I'm not ashamed of it, and Steve and I do watch porn together occassionally and it's fun. Quite frankly, I think it's a little creepy to watch porn alone. I am very sexually expressive and uninhited, a fact that's surprised many of the guys that I've dated that always thought I was a timid "church girl". The more reason I am proud of my self-control and the fact that I waited until I was 22 to have vaginal intercourse, something that would have otherwise happened when I was 14.

Where does all this fit with the christianity and culture I was taught to follow when I was a kid? Absolutely nowhere because to some extent I'm sick of the hypocrisy that goes on within these two institutions. I would rather do some of these things out in the open and not be tormented by guilt than be the first to cast a stone when I'm engaging in "immorality" behind the curtain. I believe one can be a decent human being with a good heart without necessarily being religious. So stop with the stone casting already. F.D. you go on and do your thing. You don't have to defend yourself or justify your posts. If someone doesn't like what you wrote, they can go blog about it on their own blogs.
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I'm skipping town this afternoon after the funeral and I can't wait. I'm in need of a break after the week I've had. Especially at work. The damn FDA was around this week and that put everyone on edge and the work environment was totally unfriendly, not to mention the long hours spent there. Thank God my weekend started off right by going to dinner with Steve. He was looking yummy for sure, all dressed up. We had a great waitress who regaled us with hilarious stories of some of the weird patrons she's served before (my favorite was the couple that left a note on their tab asking if she would be willing to have a threesome with them. They even left a number) and at the end of the night, she got a humongous tip. All in all, the three figure dinner bill was worth it and after some great sex, Steve and I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Talk about a chilled out birthday. Now have yourselves a wonderful weekend!

Someone's Trippin' and it Ain't me!

Have you ever found yourself wondering what you would do if someone you love, say your cute "little" cousin, outted (is that a word?) herself to you? What would your reaction be? Perhaps you're the biggest homophobe on planet earth, would your views change because you love your cousin so much? Or perhaps you're the kinda person that's never given a shit whether someone's homosexual or not. I mean, what does someone else's sex life have to do with you, right?

Well, about a week ago, I was chatting with my seventeen-soon-to-be-eighteen year old cousin. She lives in a different state with her older brothers and sister and she's the last born. We all grew up together, had sleepovers, the whole works. I never really paid that much attention to her when she was younger simply cuz of the age difference, and I ended up being close friends with her oldest bro and sis. So this particular night, we talked on the phone a tad longer than we usually do, perhaps cuz she was the only one at home when I called. I was in the habit of saying hi and almost immediately asking to speak to the sis or bro.

I don't even know how the whole conversation started, all I remember is her saying that she was really confused. That statement came out of the blue and I wondered what the hell she was talking about. Without even thinking twice about it, she blurted out "I like girls". It took a few seconds for the meaning of her words to fully register. I didn't have a reaction. Perhaps I should have been shocked, perhaps I should have been surprised, perhaps I should have been...what? I waited for that reaction to come, but it didn't. Instead, I made sure she knew that I wasn't about to judge her. I have quite a few gay friends, and have even had chicks hit on me. I've never given it too much thought, mostly figuring it wasn't my business what people did in their beds.

As she went on to describe how scared she was, I actually felt sorry for her. I know her parents and if they ever found out, she would be dead meat. Especially her dad. Doesn't matter that she's a daddy's girl, he will absolutely kill her.

Her oldest brother found out she was a lesbian by reading a letter (or diary? Not too sure, but I guess snooping around runs in the family...lol). He took her out to lunch and told her that he knew she was a lesbian and wanted her to change (um...hello?) He then went and told their other sister, who acted like she didn't hear. She's never said a word to my lil' cousin about it and pretends everything's the same. At the same time, the oldest bro doesn't even talk to her anymore yet they live in the same house.

I thought she was done dropping bombshells, but boy was I wrong. After another few minutes of talking, she reminded me of a time they'd come over to my house for a sleepover when I was in 10th grade. I actually remember that time cuz after finishing primary school, sleepovers almost ceased to exist. Apparently, that was the first time she noticed that she liked girls because she fell for me (at this point I should really be shocked, perhaps worried? I search for an emotion, but nothing's changed. I'm simply listening). She was almost twelve then and when she went home after the weekend, she couldn't stop thinking about me.

When they came to visit this past summer, she'd been acting very strange and I even mentioned it to the bro and the mom, asking if she was having a particularly bad adolescence cuz some of her actions were totally irrational and dumb. Before I could ask her any other questions, she told me how hard it was for her to spend the week at my house, and she was trying to avoid me because she still has a crush on me. Ok, is this my kid female cousin trying to hit on me? Is she for real! This whole thing felt like a big joke. Of course I had no comment so I chose to keep my mouth shut.

I don't remember how the conversation ended, I quit listening after awhile. This past weekend, she wrote me an email saying that she'd been thinking about me all week. She knew I was her cousin and it was wrong, but she couldn't help it. I read the email as I was running off to work and didn't give it a second thought until she called me last night and asked why I hadn't replied her email. Ok, what the hell am I supposed to say? I know for a fact I have no sexual or romantic interest in girls (I can appreciate a cute booty or nice boobs, but not in a sexual way, sort of like noticing your friend has cute shoes on). At the same time, she is going through a stressful and confusing time in her life, and aside from the bro and sis, I'm the only person that knows she's a lesbian. Well, she trusted me enough to tell me, but now, how do I handle this supposed crush that's been there for years without doing any damage? People her age aren't exactly the most rational human beings on earth.

How do I let her know that I support her in whatever choice she makes and I love her regardless, but I'm not remotely interested in her (or any other girls) and quite frankly, she shouldn't have a crush on me cuz I'm her cousin. All this, without hurting her feelings or building a wall cuz I would still want her to talk to me when she's stressed out. Damn!

Tomorrow is Steve's birthday. Can't believe it, but he's turning twenty nine. We were joking last night about our age difference, and even though I've always dated older guys (I've done much worse than 6 year differences), he's never dated a girl that was more than two years his junior. We figured that the year I was in eighth grade, he was a sophomore in college...LOL.

I went out at one in the morning to get his birthday gift. Like most guys I know, he loves video games and one time when we were at the movies, they advertised Final Fantasy XII and he happened to mention that he wanted to buy it. Being a video game dummy, I enlisted the help of other guys and found out that it was coming out on 31st. Apparently, there was a possibility that it would sell out, and not wanting to take any chances, I went looking at 1 in the morn before the rest of the world woke up to go looking for it. I'm very proud of that small accomplishment and no doubt he'll love his present.

After lots of procrastination, I finally made dinner reservations for tomorrow night at my all time favorite Italian restaurant. He's never been there, but I hope he'll love it as much as I do. I just feel really bad that he decided to cancel dinner plans with his parents so he could go out with me. I haven't officially met his parents (been avoiding them like the plague, and I know he's been avoiding mine too, even though they keep asking when I'm gonna introduce him), so I didn't think it was appropriate to have a big happy family dinner. His friends are having a birthday party for him over the weekend, so he decided to just go ahead and spend the night alone with me. Mostly because we haven't seen each other in almost two weeks now, and I'll be going out of town the following day for another week.

On another note, I'm attending a funeral on Friday afternoon. The only funeral I've ever attended for a family member was my grandfather's and the last funeral I went to was in 2000 when one of my teachers died of AIDS. I have no problem with dead bodies (seen a lot of cadavers in recent years) but this is a different kind of funeral. The guy is being cremated and I know this is really really dumb, but I couldn't help but wonder whether we get to watch the cremation. That would be a little creepy, but I don't know which is worse; watching the cremation itself or being handed ashes and storing them in the house ("Meet the Parents" comes to mind here). Anyway, I'll buy flowers and hope for the best. I hate funerals....ok, I doubt anyone loves a funeral, but you get the point...

TGIF

It's been one of those crazy weeks where everything seems to have gone wrong. My job is ordinarily stressful, but when some people make stupid, careless mistakes, then the stress-o-meter is off the chain cuz then you got the director breathing down your neck every few hours and the supervisor just yelling at everyone out of sheer frustration (not to mention the thousands of dollars gone to waste and the looming media circus that everyone's trying to avoid)...

Anyway, that means that the last time I saw Steve was on Monday night (great sex!) and the rest of the week just sort of went past without my notice. I got to thinking the other day about our relationship. Is it becoming more and more sex-based? I mean, every time we're together, which is not all that often, all we do is have sex. Or is that normal? We hardly ever go out any more. You see, I wouldn't know because he's the only guy I've ever had sex with. Yes, I waited until I was 22 to lose my virginity. Although that is relative. If you have oral sex, are you still a virgin? Is virginity primarily defined by the breaking of the hymen (I bled, but it wasn't as painful as I often imagined it would be. Not to mention that it was actually enjoyable, a far cry from the bitterness my friends express whenever they mention their "first time").

In a way, I never thought of myself as a true virgin before I had sex with Steve. Sure, I'd never had vaginal penetration, more out of fear than anything else really. But, I'd done everything else in the name of "making out", from blow jobs to taking showers together. How the hell I ever avoided the actual sex is beyond me.

Yeah, so I haven't seen Steve all week and knowing that he has his daughter for the weekend, I'm determined to actually do something fun and not sit around thinking about him and missing him like crazy. So today I had coffee with an old friend, G, and dinner with another old friend, D. They both happen to be guys and as I was talking to Steve, he pointed out that I'd been hanging out with a lot of guys lately. It hadn't occured to me that everytime I've told Steve I'm out somewhere with a friend, that friend has been a guy. Was that a note of jealousy I detected in his voice? I tried my best to ignore it and quickly changed the subject. I can't help it if majority of my friends happen to be guys. He didn't sound too pleased and made up some excuse about having to take the baby to his parents' house for a visit and asked me to call him later when was done having dinner with D.

The deal with D is that I used to have a big, huge crush on him early this year. He's one of the most interesting people I've ever met and he has this uncanny way of making me laugh out loud. The kind of laugh where you throw your head back and spit out your coffee (gross! I know) while choking on it at the same time. That's how funny he is. I hadn't seen him since early this summer and the emails were getting a little old, so we decided to have dinner and catch up. Early this year if he'd tried to kiss me, or even suggested that there was a chance we could ever date, I would have jumped at it. Due to unfortunate circumstances, a romantic relationship was out of the question.

Sure, I was a little worried about seeing him again, wondering if the crush would still be there. He's still as cute as I remember him to be, still as funny as hell, ever the gentleman, but thankfully, the crush is gone. The dinner/dessert lasted three hours. Should I be having this much fun hanging out with a guy that's not my boyfriend? When I finally got around to calling Steve to say goodnight, his tone was a little different. He made up some excuse about having to put the baby to sleep and with that, said goodnight. Ok....whatever. I hope he's not seriously getting jealous of the fact that I have guy friends that I actually enjoy hanging out with. If he is, then I've found the first vice in this otherwise angelic man. And it's about damn time. No one is that perfect!

Rated PG-13

I woke up early Friday morning, looking forward to my day off and the action I would be getting later that night. I knew Steve had a long day ahead of him so I decided to find a way to distract myself so that I could avoid calling him and sending naughty text messages. What better way to kill time than to hang out with girlfriends, gossipping and shopping? Before I knew it, it was 5:00 p.m and Steve was calling to say he was on his way home. Unfortunately, he was feeling a little sick (getting a cold). I decided to play nurse and bought lemons to make some concoctions and of course, Nyquill. All the same, I was tired and horny as hell and I just couldn't wait to get a full body massage and lots of sex. Steve and I can have sex upto 4 times in two to two and a half hours when the planets are properly aligned and the stars are shining down on us (which is almost every time we're together.)

I borrowed some movies, whose names I can't remember, and made my drive over to Steve's. As soon as I saw him, I realized we hadn't had sex in a week, although it felt like months. I was just about ready to jump on him and tear his clothes off, but a closer look told me it wasn't such a good idea. He looked like shit. Instead, all I got was a bear hug that was almost clingy. We sat down and cuddled for a few minutes while we talked about our day, then we headed out to the grocery store (why is it that guys never have any food in their fridge? Not even juice!)

When we got back, we watched one of the movies I'd brought over, but my mind was focussed on something else. I really really wanted us to stop pretending we were watching this horrible movie and make love instead. And, my whole body was sore and I could use a massage. Usually, I'm aggressive and have no qualms about initiating the sex, but I was a little reluctant that day since we'd only made up the day before. We had spoken a lot less than we usually do and I kept remembering a comment he'd told me once: I am too forward. Ok, fine, so I rested my hand on his thigh in church and absent-mindedly started stroking it. How was I supposed to know he was uncomfortable if he didn't say anything? He waited until church was over to tell me that he doesn't like PDA (this coming from a guy who french kisses me anywhere in public; coffeeshop, parking lot, work place, outside movie theatre....but somehow, we can't so much as hold hands in church. Good thing we don't go to the same church).

So there we were, lying on his couch, fully clothed, movie playing and neither of us paying attention to it. Finally, he complained that it was too hot and started taking off his clothes. It was about time! I usually turn his heat up the minute I enter the house because I don't mind heat and he doesn't like it too hot, so eventually he has no choice but to strip, and I have no choice but to wrap myself in a blanket. Perfect compromise.

Pretty soon, we were hungrily kissing and the remaining clothes came flying off. Shit, we didn't have any condoms in the living room, that meant a trip upstairs to his room. I lay on his bed, eagerly anticipating to feel him inside me. Soon enough, we had our rhythm back and within two minutes, he had cum. Now, I don't know any ladies that can cum that fast, and I sure as hell don't. Ok, fine, we hadn't had sex in a week. I could live with the over excitement. But, I was still horny and the minute I made him aware of it, he suggested I masturbate. I've done that numerous times before as a tease before we actually have sex, but I was not in the mood to masturbate when I had a live penis lying next to me.

By now, Steve was barely there, his eyes drooping. Well, I could forget that massage I'd been looking forward to. I lay there unsatisfied and frustrated at the fact that there was nothing he could do to give me what I wanted right then. Why do guys have a refractory period? Pretty annoying, I say. That was definitely the worst sex Steve and I have ever had, meaning it was the worst sex of my life. The emotional rollercoaster we'd had all week, combined with work stress and the beginnings of a cold finally took their toll. After five minutes, we both fell asleep in each other's arms. Not exactly the kind of night I was hoping for after a whole week of waiting, but the sex and massage would simply have to wait.

The Saga Continues...Final Episode (for real)

After the whole break up and make up, Steve and I were pretty cool for a couple of weeks. Very lovey-dovey, calling each other upto four times a day, using the L-word more often and the love making was definitely different. Unfortunately, in my blind anger and hurt after we broke up, I changed my entire work schedule so that I could work evenings. The thought of going to study at a coffeeshop after work, alone, killed me, so I thought I'd just start a different routine. Of course that worked for the four days Steve and I broke up, but after we got back together, that's become the biggest issue in our relationship. We just don't see each other much anymore coz our schedules are totally opposite. One positive thing is that it's given us a chance to try out quickies over lunch and well...they're quickies. They do put a smile on my face all evening at work, especially on days where I can't get off until 1 a.m. On really bad nights, we will even have phone sex, but nothing beats the real deal.

Last week, I was in a particularly good mood and decided to do something I always swore I would never do, especially if I somehow end up becoming rich/famous and some guy tries to blackmail me (yes, I do have high ambitions, but they do not involve politics or becoming another silly celeb.)

One night I was bored so I decided to play with my camera phone. I took photos of myself semi- naked, and I was wearing one particularly sexy thong with red lips across the crotch and the word "kiss" printed on it (no, I'm not gonna post a pic to illustrate this!) The next day while Steve and I were having lunch, I showed him the photos I'd taken using my phone, and I somehow felt guilty for teasing him in that way. We both had to go to work, and he was very disappointed when I told him to forget what he was thinking about. The next night I was off and over at his house, I asked him if we could exchange phones so we could take sexy photos of ourselves. I don't remember why I wouldn't let him take the photos of me, but I think in retrospect, I do know what I wanted to do at the back of my mind.

So there I was, alone in his room, with his current cell phone. Why the hell was I so obsessed with his phone? I took off my top and took a picture of my bare tummy and my sexy red bra. Steve loves my stomach and he's always joking (?) that I should get a navel ring, so I was sure to take plenty of pictures from different angles (which aren't that many if you're taking the pictures yourself). Then I took off my jeans and tried to make as sexy a pose as I could and take photos of my legs only, another part of my body that Steve loves. I wasn't exactly trying to make soft porn here, so I decided not to strip completely, just in case the photos landed in the wrong hands. I looked at the album to make sure that the photos turned out ok, and pretty soon, started looking at all the other photos in the album. They were mostly him and his adorable little angel of a girl.

Then a thought occured to me. Why not check the text messages and see if that same chick had been sending any freaky messages lately? Once again, I knew it was wrong and I shouldn't, but it was too late. My mind had thought it and my hands had no choice but to obey. And so I found myself digging through his outbox. I was more interested in what he'd written. He had over 200 messages (WTF? My stupid Verizon phone can only store a maximum of 50 messages. Switch over to Sprint?) I smiled as most of the messages were sent to me and miscellaneous family members.

Then came the "I love you but I'm afraid you're cheating on me" followed by "I still want to make you my wife". My heart rate quickened and I quickly closed the phone. Even though the messages were sent before I met him, we'd had the "ex-girlfriends ex-boyfriends" talk multiple times before and he'd never mentioned nothing about proposing to any of the chicks he'd dated. Then I heard him come up the stairs and his voice came floating into the room. He walked over and showed me his final product: very impressive. He went through college on an athletic scholarship, so he has the best abs I've ever seen in real life. His killer abs were splayed all over my phone and the V leading to the groin was sexily displayed. I couldn't help but think of Usher in a towel. He was impressed enough with my photos, but that didn't make me happy. I had other things on my mind.

Should I mention that once again, I'd looked at his messages? Fuck it, I can't deal with the guilt so I might as well. Before I could say anything, he was kissing my stomach and all thought evaporated from my brain. Way later, as we lay on the bed cuddling, I fessed up about looking at his messages. I didn't tell him exactly what I read, I didn't feel the need to at the time. I'm not sure what reaction I was expecting, but calmness wasn't it. He simply stared ahead for a long moment before declaring "No point getting mad now, is there? It's not gonna solve anything". So I just sat there like a fool and wanted to die of guilt. There wasn't much talking that night or the days that followed, but we tried to be civil.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not get the text messages out of my mind. Thinking I was gonna explode, I decided to ask him about the girl on Monday. Big mistake on my part, I did it over the phone after we'd come back from watching "The Departed" (awesome movie for those that haven't watched it). This time, his anger took me by surprise. He actually raised his voice an octave higher and totally told me off. Of course I deserved it, but it hurt so bad when he told me I had no right to violate his privacy (something I already knew). He hang up on me. I was very mad myself and wondered why he was getting pissed now and not a week earlier when I'd actually gone through his messages and told him about it. Who the fuck was this girl? Was I being taken for a ride? How could I have been so stupid and let myself fall in love with him? He did say they were still friends (yes, I'd read the name of the girl and he had never mentioned that name before when he discussed ex-girls. If he'd proposed to her, why the hell hadn't he mentioned her?)

I sat there fuming, and not wanting to write anything in my journal, I decided to join KBW and tell total strangers about it. I was miserable all week and didn't know what to do with myself. My work schedule was hectic and he was pretty busy himself, so there was no way we could meet before Friday. I'll be damned if I wait that long! He called again and left a pretty angry message. This time I knew I'd crossed the line.

I went to talk to him today. I was so scared, I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. I was pretty sure he was going to break up with me again. I went to pick him up from his work place so we could go for lunch. The minute I saw him walk across the parking lot, my heart melted as usual. He was so HOT! I decided that I would just apologize profusely until he forgave me. No way in hell were we breaking up. The only thing I needed was to hear who the hell that chick was. Steve's a pretty honest person, and I knew he would tell me the truth. As long as there was nothing sexual or remotely romantic going on, I could live with it. But he'd already made it clear that he didn't trust me anymore. Admirably, I'd managed to avoid telling my girlfriends about this latest discovery because I knew they would no doubt convince me that he was cheating on me (or was it cheating WITH me?) and once my mind believed that, it would be hard to trust him. If I didn't trust him, I couldn't date him. That much I was sure.

The minute he entered my car, his face lit up in a smile and he gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek and I couldn't help but smile back. We simply sat there, and pretty soon, we both started bitching about work. After a long time, it was clear neither of us was interested in lunch, so we continued to sit in the parking lot and talk. Miraculously, he decided that even though I'd violated his privacy, he'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't that big of a deal because I would probably have been looking at his stuff if we lived together. All the same, he was disappointed that I turned out to be as insecure as the other girls he knew, and that surprised him coz he'd always thought I was different (yeah, thanks for making me feel like a total bitch). He then went on to explain about the girl and as it turned out, he'd actually told me about her once during my long drive home while he attempted to keep me awake. Oh yeah! Now I remembered. He'd never mentioned her name though, so how was I supposed to know that was her?

All the same, we're still together and after work on Friday (I'm off, thank God), we're gonna just chill, talk, give each other full body massages to unwind, and probably have more wild, passionate sex. What can I say, Steve's crazier than I am for even continuing to be with me. I just keep worrying about how I'm gonna fuck it all up next. He needs to give me a break though, I'm experiencing emotions I've never experienced before and I don't know what to do with these emotions. ***THE END***

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Ok, this post is way too long, I'll stay away for the weekend. If you read this far, wow! I'm impressed. Thanks for stopping by, have a great weekend :)

Psycho-gal Last Chapter

I held my breath. Was he gonna hang up? Yell at me? Curse me out? Break up with me right there and then? Of course not. This is Steve we're talking about. Instead, he spent the next ten minutes trying to make me feel better, making the guilt that much worse. Was this guy for real? We ended the conversation with "we need to talk" and that was that.

The next week, I returned his phone (he didn't even raise an eyebrow) and we had great sex and life went on as normal. A week later, he called me to his crib on a Monday night, saying we needed to talk. Everything was going great as far as I could tell, but my instincts told me that he was about to break up with me. Should I beat him to the punch line? I have never had a guy break up with me before, I prefer to exit a relationship before things get too complicated emotionally. Yet, somehow, I hadn't had the strength to leave Steve, even though I knew from the beginning that our relationship was doomed.

He's African American, and I don't even need to get into the stereotypes surrounding that identity alone. I hate being stereotyped myself, so I decided that I was gonna give him a chance and not base anything on stereotypes. After all, he had a great job that requires high IQ and discipline, he had a house, a very cute little sports car, and my favorite: he was planning on going back for his Masters next fall so we spent a lot of time together studying. Not exactly fitting a stereotype, right? On my second date with him, I saw a photo of a cute little girl and asked who she was.

"My daughter." Oh? Usually this would be the part where I walk away and don't ever look back. It was only our second date for crying out loud. But no, I wasn't gonna be that judgemental. Besides, the baby lived with the mother and he went on to answer all my questions about the baby mama. Honesty is a virtue.

Weeks and weeks later, while making general conversation, I happened to mention a dude I met at a coffeeshop that worked as a correctional officer at the state prison. Somehow, Steve ended up telling me about the time he was arrested and charged with a misdemeanor for getting into a fight at a club. Oh? He had a criminal record too? By this time, I was in way over my head and that piece of info went unregistered. He had not displayed any act of violence thus far. In fact, one of his Kenyan friends is dating a friend of mine and one time he hit her and threw her against the wall. I told Steve about it and the next day, he had a talk with his friend and let him know that it was not cool to hit a woman.

So, I headed over to Steve's place, anticipating the break up. Within 3 minutes of getting there, I killed the small talk and asked him to get to the point. Of course he broke up with me and attempted to explain all the things we were both going through (issues with his baby mama's boyfriend hitting her and he was worried the jerk might get physical with his daughter too so he wanted to talk to his lawyer and the baby mama and ensure the daughter is safe) and well, I just have too many issues in general. I didn't shed a tear mostly coz I didn't feel a thing. He insisted that we remain friends and I was ok with that. Then came the goodbye hug and finally, the river started gushing. I've never cried in front of any guy I've dated and there's nothing I hate more than crying in front of people. Even my closest friends and cousins rarely see my tears. For some strange reason, I see that as a sign of weakness.

Yet, here I was getting hysterical in front of Steve. I don't know which was worse, the fact that I still had feelings for him that I'd never had for any other guy, or the fact that I was not the one doing the breaking up. I somehow made it to my car and blindly stuck the key in the ignition. Steve came up on my side and took the key right out, and pulled me back into the house.

"I can't let you drive in this condition." Oh yeah, he was ever the sensible, caring man. He always stayed on the phone with me while I made my 40 minute drive home late at night. He could not sleep if he knew I wasn't home yet.

I finally pulled myself together and stopped crying. For the first time since I met him, he said the words "I love you". Usually it was "I really like you a lot." Well, that didn't change the fact that we were broken up. I called my gal Dee and my bro and told them Steve and I had broken up. They were the happiest ones when I first started dating Steve and informed them that I actually liked him a lot. They were more used to my short little flings in which I only told them about the guy after I'd dumped him.

So this is how a broken heart feels like. It was the worst feeling I'd ever experienced. I found myself thinking back to the previous summer and the guy I'd dumped after he told me he loved me. I didn't feel anything for him and on the day I dumped him, he started crying. I simply walked off and shut the door behind me. I ignored him for months and finally, we somehow became friends to this day. What a mean, horrible thing I'd done to him.

I tried to make it through the week in one piece. I hardly recall anything at all. I was simply existing. Then came Wednesday night and I got a text message from Steve wondering how I was doing. I ignored it. Thursday, voicemail from Steve wondering how I was doing. Ignored it until Dee called to tell me that I should call Steve. She'd seen him when she was at lunch with her boyfriend, and according to her, he looked really shabby and kept asking about me. A warm feeling ran through my heart. Really? So I picked up the phone and called him. Did I wanna meet him the next day for lunch? Without a second thought, I said yes.

Friday rolled around and I was excited to be having lunch with Steve, but I was also worried about how it would feel to see him after 5 days. Would it be a lot harder to get over him? There he was, looking hot and all. He was always so well groomed. I guess he must have gotten a hair cut the night before coz he surely didn't look shabby to me. After an awkward lunch, he walked me to my car and before I knew what was going on, we were all over each other. Now I was really confused. He started saying he missed me and we should not have broken up and asked me to think about getting back together. Think about it? Was he kidding? I didn't wanna give him the impression that I was willing to get back together at the drop of a hat, so I told him I would come see him the next day. I left with my heart singing all the way home.

Come Saturday, I did my usual family ritual in the morning, then headed over to Steve's. We didn't even talk. As soon as he opened the door, we were on each other. I have to say, make up sex is the best. In my mind, I recited a zillion reasons why I should never do something so dumb as looking through his phone and other crap like that. I was in love and he was in love with me and that's all that mattered. Or was it?

Are we speaking the same language here?

So, I thought I'd break the stride and post something different, one that doesn't portray my psychotic aspect. First, thanks to all that have visited my blog so far. I actually feel welcomed and I hope I don't scare you all away with my crazy stories. But on the positive side, sometimes hearing about other people's craziness does make you feel a lot saner, doesn't it?

I loved keeping a journal. I'm very introspective and everyday I would sit and analyze my thoughts and actions. However, when your journal lands in the wrong hands, it really does discourage you from writing. Hence my switch to the blogs. There's just something about telling strangers about yourself. It's almost like a fetish.

Now onto something that pertains to the title. Why is it that many guys find it so hard to express their feelings? If you like someone, why not come right out and say it? The funny thing is, they have no problem saying sweet nothings they don't mean to other girls, but when it comes to someone they really really like, they'd rather die. Guys, correct me if I'm wrong.

Take for example guy 1 and guy 2. Both of them I've known for four or five years. Guy 1 was my study partner for the longest time in college and we hang out a lot and made samosas (he did, I can't make a samosa to save my life) and I was glad to have a guy friend that wasn't constantly trying to get in my pants. Right? Wrong. After four years of college, I found out from a mutual friend that he was "in love" with me and that was the only reason he would want to hang out and cook me samosas. Now how on earth was I supposed to know he was interested if he didn't ever hint at it? He's good looking and dateable, but now that I know his motives, we don't hang out as much and our friendship's feeble at best.

Then there's Guy 2. One of those "my mom and your mom went to high school together so we'll try to be civil to each other" relationships. I totally dislike him and we have never been able to spend more than half an hour together without arguing over something. We had to plan an event together recently, and during a break, we went to Starbucks for a quick cup of coffee. While making small talk, I mentioned the fact that I had a boyfriend. I hadn't seen Guy 2 in over 6 months and I'd always assumed that the dislike was a mutual feeling we held for each other. So imagine my shock when the guy starts tripping and going on and on about how he liked me and how he'd hoped to hook up sometime "soon". How on earth was I supposed to know that he liked me? Well, according to him, he helped me wash dishes one time after a party at my house, something he didn't like doing. And, I'm the only person he ever goes out for coffee with coz he hates coffee. HUH? How am I supposed to know that?

There are numerous other examples, but you get the point. So, guys, what is your way of showing a girl that you like her? And ladies, short of a guy blurting it out, how have you been able to tell that a certain guy likes you and is not necessarily after your booty?

Psycho-gal Part III

With my heart doing its Olympic run once again, I turned on the phone, and this time, it stayed on. My brain kept screaming at me. STOP! STOP! THIS IS INSANE AND SO WRONG! Unfortunately, my brain was on its own this time. The rest of my body just couldn't hear it. And so I went straight to the inbox, taking a deep breath, and expecting the worst. All messages I saw were from the same number (all calls received and made from his phone were nameless numbers, and a quick look at the address book revealed 3 names). So there was the same one I'd read before. The one before that said "I love you". Looking at the outgoing messages, his last message was "I love you too".

Unfortunately, there weren't that many messages in the first place (5 inbox, 4 outbox) and for some strange reason, I was disappointed. What was I expecting? Definitely something a lot worse. Besides, the messages were sent the month before I met him. All the same, I became suspicious; after all, he'd told me he broke up with his last girlfriend last November. Maybe it wasn't a girlfriend but a cousin. I have cousins like that, the kind who text just to say "I love you". If he didn't know they were my cousins when he read my messages, he would probably think I was cheating.

I looked at the call history again, and this time, something was different. There was a call made the day before, after all these months. I thought it strange that he used that phone to make the call, especially since he had another phone that worked perfectly fine. I filed this piece of info away. For no good reason, I memorized the number from which the text messages were sent, in case I spotted it again on his current phone. I then used the phone to dial mine and realized that it was a totally different number. Why on earth did he have two functional lines? Actually, he had two other phones that he never used, why the many phones? All of them almost new? In a different lifetime, I could easily have been a detective (or crook)...

I was sure to erase the call I made to my phone. Then ensured that the phone actually died. Then once again, went into panic mode. What was I doing exactly? Never in my life had I done anything so outrightly stupid and insane. In fact, I'd never cared much to even look at any of my ex-boyfriends' phones, even when they left me with their phones for hours. So then, why was I obsessed with Steve's? What exactly did I want? Reassurance that there really was no other girl in the picture? That was absurd. I trusted him 100%, more than I'd ever trusted any other guy. So what was the problem? Is this what love does to you?

How the hell was I gonna return his phone? It was Thursday morning and I wasn't gonna see him over the weekend coz I had family coming from out of town and would be busy. By the end of the weekend, I was pretty sure he would notice his phone was missing. I called my girl, Dee. It was confession time. I had to tell someone what I'd done, or else I would die. Over lunch at our fav Italian restaurant, I recounted the crazy story. The entire time, all she said was "Oh my God!" and "I can't believe you did that" followed by bouts of laughter expressing shock. She gave me the advice I knew she would: return the phone without being caught and don't say anything.

Steve called me later in the day, and we chitchatted for awhile, trying to avoid any mention of my little visit to his house the previous night. Since we were both at work, we did our usual "how's your day going" and hang up. Later that night, I called him to apologize for showing up at his house unannounced. He sounded so sweet over the phone. I could picture him lying on his couch, probably playing his stupid video games and half listening to what I was saying. Then I spilled the beans.

"Honey, I have your phone."

A puzzled moment of silence. I held my breath, anticipating his next question.

"What do you mean you have my phone?"

"Well, umm...last night...you see, well, last night when I was on my way out...." Then I totally freaked out and started blabbering about...well, I don't know what gibberish I was saying coz the next thing I heard was "slow down, baby, you need to take a deep breath and relax. What happened?"

With that, I had a total melt down. I have never felt so guilty in my whole entire life. When I was done telling him what I'd done (minus my trip to Sprint store to buy a charger; it's enough for him to know I took his phone but it was dead. It's already scary without saying the truly psychotic part), I held my breath. Was he gonna hang up? Yell at me? Curse me out? Break up with me right there and then?....To be Continued...

Psycho-gal Part II

As I stood there staring at that same silver phone, a strange thought occurred to me. I could hear Steve's footsteps as he got ready to head downstairs. Without thinking, I bent down and picked up the phone. I looked towards the stairs and saw his feet starting to climb down. I picked up my purse and threw the phone in, and when Steve came up behind me to kiss me on the neck, I pretended to be searching for my car keys. My heart was thudding wildly and I tried my best to avoid eye contact. Amid my craziness, I totally failed to notice the look on Steve's face. In retrospect, I can safely say he wasn't too happy I showed up at his house without calling. Later, he would confess that he thought I was spying on him, hence the unannounced visit. Even though those were not my intentions at the time, seeing how crazy I've been acting lately, I wouldn't be surprised if some shrink told me that that was the real reason behind my visit.

Anyhow, my drive home was very long. What the hell was I thinking? I wanted so badly to stop by the curb somewhere and turn on the phone, but I knew I had to be patient. And then it hit me. Oh my God!! I was a thief! I had just stolen my boyfriend's phone. Maybe after all these years, I was finally losing it. I went into panic mode, and the rest of my drive home is a big blur.

Once I got home, I sat on my bed for a long time debating whether or not to switch on the phone. In my mind, I had a million different ideas on how to return the phone without Steve ever noticing it was missing in the first place. After all, he didn't use it. I could just throw it back under the couch, or even under the passenger seat of his car. He's so messy, he wouldn't be suspicious.

Since I'd already taken the phone, might as well look at the contents, right? Heart pounding, I pressed the power button. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the phone. I waited for the phone to light up, but as soon as it did, a message popped up indicating the battery was low, and it immediately went dead. I tried this several times, but the stupid phone wouldn't cooperate for just a few minutes, long enough for me to read the damn messages then it could die all it wanted. I looked at the phone company. Sprint. Just my luck. I have Verizon, and I could not think of a single person I knew that owned a Sprint phone. Besides, what was I gonna say? May I borrow your charger so I can spy on my boyfriend's text messages? Disappointed as hell, I went to sleep angry at the phone, but mostly, angry at myself for being such a bitch. That night, my dreams were filled with scenarios of how to return the phone unnoticed. Steve had never given me reason to distrust him, and if he ever found out I took his phone, I knew that would be the end of our relationship. No, I couldn't let that happen.

The next day I woke up with a strange feeling in my stomach. It only took a few seconds to remember just how much I'd fucked up the night before. Stealing? STEALING??!! What was wrong with me? How could I do something so dumb? The disappointment at going to all that trouble for nothing kept getting bigger and bigger. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself paying $42.95 and walking out of a Sprint PCS store with a brand new charger. Whereas my brain kept screaming at me that I was completely psycho, my heart felt nothing. For the first time since I'd stolen Steve's phone, I was not panicky, and my heart was not beating at lightning speed either. I got home and charged the phone for exactly 2 minutes, careful that when I was done with it, it would be dead. I was also careful not to unwrap the entire charger, that way, I could return it as soon as I was done.

With my heart doing its Olympic run once again, I turned on the phone, and this time, it stayed on. My brain kept screaming at me. STOP! STOP! THIS IS INSANE AND SO WRONG! Unfortunately, my brain was on its own this time. The rest of my body just couldn't hear it. And so I went straight to the inbox, taking a deep breath, and expecting the worst....To Be Continued...

Psycho-gal...part I

You wanna know just how psychotic you really are? I have a simple answer. Just get into a relationship. Not just any relationship, but one where you actually LOVE the guy. You'll be amazed at how much stupid shit you're capable of doing. I used to be totally jazzed by the chicks that we're all quick to label as "drama queens". You know, the type that will start pulling another chick's hair, burning down their man's house, the whole nine yards? Sure, I often laughed at how any self-respecting woman with a sense of pride and dignity could demean herself like that. Well, that was before I met Steve, my current boyfriend (?) and fell head over heels in love...finally, at the age of 22 I fall in love!

We have a tradition, Steve and I. We work 5 minutes apart and everyday after work, we meet at this coffeeshop at the mall and talk, study for our big exams coming up, watch movies, shop, or head over to his house. On this particular evening, he didn't want to meet coz he had to go home and finish up a project for work. So here I was, all alone at the coffeeshop (something I usually enjoyed), feeling dejected. Granted, I was PMSing and for some strange reason, feeling needy and clingy. What I wanted from Steve that night was some TLC, not "I have to finish up a project from work".

So I went shopping, bought me a sexy little top and decided to surprise him at home and give him a break from his work. He lives 30 minutes away from the mall. On my drive there, I kept picturing him opening his door in boxers (that's how he chills at home) and me standing there with a big smile on my face and as soon as the door closes, I jump on him and we make love right there on his living room floor. The closer I got to his house, the more excited I got. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I kept thinking that maybe I should call to see how far he'd gotten with his work, but I dismissed the idea.

So I get to Steve's house, ring the door bell and wait and wait. He finally opens the door, wearing the red shorts I absolutely love, with a white vest and glasses. First time I'd seen him wear glasses in the 2 months we'd been dating, and he looked incredibly sexy. He prefers contacts (and he usually forgets and sleeps in them). As soon as the door opens, I realize that something's wrong. He stands there, looking perplexed and in turn, I look at him in surprise and start feeling stupid. He lets me in, gives me a really lame, weak hug and then there's an awkward silence before he declares that he's still working on his project and he has some paperwork to finish by morning.

"Why didn't you call honey, I could have saved you a half hour of driving."

With that, he goes upstairs to the study room and I'm left all alone watching TV, talking on the phone and all around feeling stupid. After an hour, it's 10:30, and embarassed, I go upstairs to tell him that I was sorry for bugging him and I was gonna leave. My little fantasy of making love on the living room carpet had long evaporated and I just wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out again. I kissed him and started to walk away. He pulled me back and asked me to wait so he could throw a shirt on and walk me out. So I went downstairs and just as I heard his shuffling feet headed downstairs, I saw a silver cell phone poking from under his couch and had a flashback to the previous day.

On our way to his crib, we'd stopped by the grocery store to grab juice. He left me in the car, and bored to death, my eye caught a silver cell phone lying on the floor of the car. Why on earth does he have two perfectly good phones? Out of boredom and curiosity, I picked the phone up and started playing with it. I turned it on, and to my surprise, it readily lit up. I went straight to the call history (last call made a few days before I met him) and then the text messages. The first one I read was from some nameless number declaring "I wanted to cum ova" sent at 12:54 a.m. and that's as far as I went because I looked up and saw Steve walking out of the store. With that, I turned off the phone and became really hot and bothered. I acted like nothing was going on and within hours, forgot about the phone and the message.

Now, as I stood there staring at that same silver phone, a strange thought occurred to me. I could hear Steve's footsteps as he got ready to head downstairs. Without thinking, I bent down and picked up the phone.....To Be Continued....

Introduction

Ladies and gentlemen, a brief introduction here. I am a 22-year-old female, born in Kenya and now living in the U.S. I have had a very interesting life, most of which I don't care to remember (but I have to endure the memories nevertheless). I grew up in the traditional African setting that many kids are raised in, and for the most part, was a "good girl" that always stuck to the rules. When it came to men, I was as innocent as they come. I have had a chance to mess around with a couple of them, but sometimes I'm truly amazed at some of the things men do. And so this blog will mostly document my relationships, and how bad I am at that kind of stuff. In my world, I tend to believe that men and women really are different, hence the title of the blog. Feel free to leave comments, there's nothing I would love more than to hear both men's and women's perspectives. On some issues though, I will say right now that I'm completely on my own. This is my space, in this big wide net, simply writing down my thoughts, lest I go crazy. Don't crucify me for being me, just have fun and welcome to my world.