Collect your records...

A bit of a lag time, I suppose.  Though less than what it normally is.

Poked around in the PUA community a couple times in the last few weeks.  Have to say, it looks like most of it is fading away.  Some of the guys are still around, sure, but post quality and/or quantity is going down.  Funny how that happens.  Can't imagine wrapping my life around one thing and then sticking to it.

But then, having spent some time with two of Strauss' coaches, I can understand a bit more.

November is wrapping up.  Near the beginning, I declared a man-cation.  I had had enough.  GV8 had "stumbled" across my catch up entry and was being... him.  An ex from almost ten years ago --the last one, but third one in a row to cheat on me-- and I bumped into each other.  Rekindled.  Then I got irritated.

Sometimes, people don't change.  Not the cheating part, but other things.

My casual partner, the Boy, had shifted gears into "oh hai emotions" even though he swore he wouldn't.  So suddenly had to evacuate an imbalanced relationship so he could re-orient himself and so I wouldn't go insane from the sudden clingyness.  I can't deal with cling.

A man I've had an interest in for years, a fellow grad student, shut me down.  Not that it was any big thing or whatnot, but it was still... oof.  I'm not used to that.  But I understand that we have a special friendship, especially for him being so introverted.  If it's between sex and having what we have, I'd rather keep the latter.

Then Ian, whose name I can use because, well, I can.  The girl he chose over me back in January of this year, thinking that she'd be more emotionally... whatever, ditched him.  Because she wasn't more emotionally... whatever.  I'm the softy.  So few people get that.  And some family members/friends died within a close proximity to each other and I'm probably the closest thing he has to what he calls "the twisted mirror version" of himself... so he reached out.

He was actually the only one I welcomed.  Not that we did anything but talk and entangle fingers.  That'll change this week.  I miss sex with him.

Then there was the businessman in Japan.  American.  Relocated by his company.

That trip was my first out of the country since I was three.  I found myself finding the occasional white male ridiculously attractive.  Men that I would put at a 3 or a 4 back home, men I would just *blip* over, were suddenly 7s and 8s.  It was hysterical, watching myself react.

And then, of course, the day we leave there's two American boys checking into our hotel that were just one step down from Abercrombie models.  Goddamn, if I had had one more night with how one of those boys was looking at me, I'd have been purring in the middle of an Abercrombie sandwich.

Anyhow, back to the businessman.  In Los Angeles, he'd probably be a 5.  But I saw him when I was wandering back from Tokyo Tower at 10:30ish at night on a particularly lonely evening and just started talking to him.

It's funny, how much I need communication.  Need to write, need to relay, to talk.  I'm such a girl.

So, I get his business card and we go out a couple of nights later.  Had a pretty good time, good conversations (hell, I'm always a great conversation starter, however we get into it-- porn, my thesis, geeklife, convention work), and he walks me back to my hotel.

Now, I'm so discombobulated by the whole social/cultural isolation thing that I can't tell for the life of me if he wants to come up or he's just being nice and I'm actually worried that this guy that I'll never talk to again will think I'm the most horrible slut if I invite him up.  Also in play was the fact that I was sharing a room with a coworker (who was aware that I was out on a date that night and that she might come back to the room with a sock on the doorknob) who was out at karaoke and could return at any moment (which then I'd feel guilty for locking her out of the room... and she's also head of HR.  Just sayin'.).

So I rock back and forth on my feet for a bit and then decide that I should just send him on his way even though I really want to get laid and I'm all stressing about the slut-perception bit (which you all know I never do) and then go up to the hotel room and then... pause.  Decide I'm being an idiot and under the sway of feeling so isolated and that I just need to go grab him and drag him to my room.  That if he's going to walk me all the way to my hotel, he damn well wants to come up and I'm an idiot.

But then I can't find him.  And I didn't have a Japanese cell, so I couldn't call him.

Defeated, I checked on my coworkers at karaoke and went to bed.

So, that happened.

And the thing with the boy-- I did something I never, ever have done.  Stopped during sex and just started crying.

Jet-lag + PMS + guilt = terrible, terrible things.

I've got this whole thing where I feel responsible for my partners when they're within ten years of my age and have significantly less experience than I do.  Toss the Boy in there with his grand total of (now) three sex partners and being eight months younger than me and... yeah.

So when we started having sex and I'm just tuning into his body language pre-sex and during and realizing that, wow, he is so romantically and psychologically invested in me and I should have stopped this long ago (by long ago, I mean two months earlier) but I was so stressed from work and he was the only vacation I ever allowed myself to take... I felt wretched.  I've got this poor kid who thinks he can handle friendship with sex without the emotional investment and he makes this prediction after two barely-there relationships with two sex partners and I accepted that because, yeah, I wanted to teach him.  I wanted to help make him into what I saw as the potential in him.  And I could relax when I was with him.

...also, the muscles and general physical mrowrness was quite convincing.

And then I see him starting to get attached and I just kept running with it, talking with him about it a little, but never putting my foot down.  Hoping it would sort itself out.  Which it didn't.  Just kept getting worse until I stop him mid-coitus because I can't deal with pretending to be happy that we're having sex and I shouldn't be doing that in the first place to him because he'd feel shitty about it.

When that happened-- total man-cation.  Sliced off the ex and GV8, put the Boy into a "off" mode, and got back into career-mind.  Which was great because, man, I had fallen behind.

Yesterday, I removed the man-cation from the Boy.  Went over to his place, had a marathon of Miyazaki films while I worked and we slightly cuddled.  In the morning, I talked with him.  Told him that we were never going to be in a real relationship, that we just didn't work.  That I wanted to be his friend.  And that if he ever attempted to Nice Guy me, he'd be out on his ass.

He seemed okay.  Said he figured that's what was going to happen when I came back from my man-cation and had already accepted it, for the most part.  But he hoped we'd still have sex because I'm all about my rape scenes and he's all about his rape scenes and you can't find many girls willing to admit that, much less participate in it.  I told him I had to see how we'd handle as friends, make sure that I felt it was emotionally safe for him if we did so.

Which is weird because I'm removing the decision from him, saying he can't make that choice.  Even though he's an adult.  But I have so much more experience.  It's an odd place to be, telling someone you'll let them know how they are emotionally.  How arrogant.  Kinda dickish.

I know a lot of guys like to pretend that sex means nothing to them, that they can bang a girl forever and just give a shit about doing anything else.  And that's true for some guys.  But I've found that even with the ones that are pretty hardcore about the casual thing, they still soften.  Which is good, to a point.  Humanizing.

So.  Back to square one.

I've been writing about it elsewhere a little, but I think I've finally hit that point in my psychology where I'm stable and happy enough with myself to not really care if I'm in a relationship or not.  Sure, rejection fucking stings, sexual or otherwise.  But I've been venturing out more lately, initiating.

And I can't find That Guy.  I can't even visualize That Guy.  The right guy.  I can't picture how he'd fit into my life, what he'd be like, what he enjoys, how my family would react, what life would suddenly be shifted into.  I can't even daydream the perfect scenario.  It's like throwing slices of Kraft singles at a ceiling-- you think they'll stick, but they never do, even if you lick them.

I know.  I've done it.  It was disappointing.  Gummi bears will stick, so why won't Kraft singles?

Anyhow.  It's weird.  Tripping me out a bit.  A lot, really.  I've always aimed for this level of health where I don't need a partner, but I want one.  Where they won't complete me, but complement me.  Where it's okay if we go slow, if I don't hear from them for a few days.

I'm there, and it feels so off from my usual state of being.

Wonder if it's because of my lack of free time.  Or this job offering me value.  Both of which would be concerning, as they're external forces, not internal.  Of course, when/if the job ends, knowing that I had the job, the experience, the networking that came with it... that'd stick.  Right?  I don't know, really.

I'll figure it out one day, I suppose.

Other than all the madness above, the semester is just a couple weeks out from completion.  I've already finished my final paper and Bryn's doing edits.  I started Crossfit last week-- tough business.  I'm such a whuss.  Trying to motivate myself to start running again-- I stopped when working the Halloween event because my body was so goddamned battered all the time and, really, I just didn't have the time.  Work is... well, work.  Crazy and fulfilling and maddening.  Bryn's theoretically taking me to Disneyland in a couple weeks to stay at the Grand Californian-- bucket list item.  I met an amazing dancer at one of my clubs.  More on that later, and paper alphaness.  Fascinating.

Anyhow, I'm starting to block-paragraph babble.  Probably time for Z.

Blonde.

So, I'm on my 30th hour of no sleep in an attempt to get myself from Tokyo schedule to Los Angeles schedule.  Which means any real posting or replies will be... postponed.

In the meantime, my boss requested that I go blonde for the trip.  May or may not have mentioned that.

Anyhow, I've been absolutely fascinated by the ($800) blondeness.  And I think I'm going to keep it.  Makes flying under the radar that much more fun.  So pictures are below.

Also, some of you might be amused to know that, earlier this year, I found myself spending a little time with one of Strauss's pick-up coaches.  I shot him down at the end, so he ended up banging one of my friends (or so it seemed-- never did get direct confirmation).  Everyone wound up happy.  He got his validation, she got hers, and I got to experience first hand (and second hand) how a professional PUA works.

And... drum roll please...!

Catch Up

I'm procrastinating so much right now.

But my internet palate has been mostly cleansed. Got out and about. Blogged elsewhere. New sites, new names, new faces. So I should probably give a quick rundown of the last two years. Who knows when/if I'll ever update this thing again.

GV8 and I broke up, as you saw.

 PD and I were having issues and broke up, finally, in April 2011. We're still best friends. Yes, I'm still in love with him to some degree. We're working on it.

In July 2011, I took a volunteer gig for a little over a week. I loved it. Motivated me to quit my day job (international logistics, if I never mentioned) and pursue my goals fully. 

Grad school started in August 2011. I'm halfway through now, and on my third semester. I think I'm going to do it in five semesters (total), if my current working situation continues.

 I spent, essentially, August 2011 to August 2012 being self-employed. Random gigs. Some of them were *really* random. I was a regular lunch date for an elderly blind man. A church-attendee delivery service. Accountant for a video game start-up. Flower delivery. Book editor. Trivia creator. Personal assistant. Tech consultant for the elderly.

And I started regularly writing for a pop culture news site. Had a weekly feature column there doing movie reviews, as well as the random interview. Got to meet some awesome, creative people and talk to them about what they love doing. Sporadically seeing one of them now, a very up and coming actor. Movie screenings throughout Hollywood. Pre-release parties. Comic-Con, up on the roof of fancy hotels. Sitting down with the cast of my favorite TV shows. Still doing that.

I get things in the mail. Books, movies, promotional items for various books and movies. Somehow ended up on the Paranorman mailing list. I now have zombie slippers and a toothbrush. (I squeaked when I opened that box.)

I occasionally worked as a runner and office girl for one of my favorite horror movie companies. It helped that I was banging their Marketing Manager, but the owner liked me, found me more professional than the others. More on him later, if I post again.

And, of course, the porn writing. I don't know if I ever posted about that. I write porn scripts. Parodies, mostly. For major porn houses. It's pretty fun. I get to go to set and watch porn stars act out my scripts, which is oddly gratifying.

I also finally tackled a dream I've had since I was a teenager: working a local Halloween event. It's a month and a half long. I applied for the 2011 season. My character? A murdered prostitute. It was perfect. Beautiful.

I'm doing it again this year. My location? The bedroom. It's dark pink and red, a four poster bed. My official station? The bed. Covered in blood, I get to roll around, stripper style. Grinding, dry-humping, moaning. Hitting on those who walk through. Inviting to threesomes. Distracting guests so one of my coworkers can lunge and roar. I work that bed like a god.

I wear dresses constantly now. Part of that job-- running into the wardrobe building and stripping as quickly as possible in order to not be late to my make-up artist. I started populating my wardrobe with pastels and brightly colored patterns, wearing contacts instead of my usual glasses. Curling my hair. Fucking with friends who haven't seen me in ages-- used to me in my dark colors and elegant lines. The upcoming winter means sweater dresses, and I love them so much.

Grad school has been good, too. Was pulling straight As, had been all through my pre-reqs until I made the stupid mistake of being overly honest with a professor about his teaching style. That turned into a B+. Occasionally I do childish things.

I went back to the volunteer job for 2012. It's a two week long event, essentially. While I was there, things kept happening. Promotions. Within months, through my doggedness in getting the prep work done before the event and willingness to do whatever needed to be done, I rapidly climbed. Soon I was out of the volunteer ranks and into a paid position, without ever having any intent of doing so. The event hit and it was madness.

I was overseeing a division of a little over 100 people with very little experience. But we pulled through and impressed everyone. A month later, another promotion, a salaried position with benefits. Flexible hours. I'm in the office a total of ten hours a week. I set my own home hours.

I'm a Director now. I'm 28. I'm overseeing four divisions with around 550-600 staff under me. Every year we pull together to make an amazing event that's attended by fifty thousand people. I'm responsible for about 85% of what they interface with.

We travel. I have to go negotiate with major, major companies whose names anyone would know. I'm going to Tokyo in a few weeks. Washington D.C. in January. Just got back from Atlanta. Will be going out of state constantly next year, doing meetings and networking. Another trip to Japan in the Spring.

I love it. It isn't where I expected to be, this time last year.

This time last year I was saving every penny for tuition. I'm halfway through my Masters and I still have no student debt. I'm almost done saving for the Spring semester as well.

Love life? I've been single since PD and I broke up. Not that there's been a lack of attention. Just a lack of anyone I truly want to date.

Sex life? I've got a lovely young man I call "the boy". He's a few months younger than I am. All blond Germanic heritage and features. Perfectly hung. Funny as hell-- I laugh so much when I'm with him. We play far too many video games together. He's got the old consoles, so I ordered a copy of Super Mario World for SNES and we're plowing through that.

He's my vacation from work.

He's also my pet project. 28 and, when I met him, had had sex with only two women a total of four times. Never had done doggie, never had gone down on a girl, never had sex in the shower, standing up, nothing. 

While I do love experienced men, I truly do, sometimes I meet someone who I vibe with who has no experience. Someone I can work with. He's one of them. I'm taking my years of experience and funneling them to him. Teaching him everything I know about sex, about getting sex, about psychology and attitudes and warnings. He soaks it up like a sponge, he's so quick.

There's been other guys. I ran into an ex from almost a decade ago. We're rekindling. That's a whole other story.

I was seeing a lifestyle businessman for a bit. Dom. Loaded. Gorgeous. Perfectly experienced. So very, very distant. Got old.

PhD student. Into rape scenes. The sex was great. He was kinda a dick.

Programmer/tech nerd. Wonderful sex, hung like a horse, fun to be with. Started dating someone.

The marketing guy from the horror company. Whole kettle of fish with that one. And by fish, I mean pussy. He was getting too much of it from too many places. Made me uneasy-- he kept banging crazies.

There's been others. I forget. Nothing serious.

Partner count, because some of you are so very concerned with that, is probably around 90. Still haven't been able to work it all out. Don't really care. The ones that matter, matter. The ones that don't, really really don't. I know there are things I've forgot to mention, but it has been a crazy couple of years. I'll bring it together eventually. Or I won't.

I'm the one in green. Being devoured by zombies. Like you do.