The Mok Spot

I'm not going to completely lie and say that I'm not afraid of rejection. I am. It does make me a bit weary to put myself out there and be denied. I avoid that by not putting myself out there, or being so nonchalant in my actions to play off my true intentions, and by being staunchly old fashioned in that I should be pursued. Not be the pursurer.

I've got a handle on my issues with rejection, but I've yet to full flush out my problems with being accepted. I get that it sounds weird, but it is true. I guess it is because I've never really been in that position before. Considering my past experiences, it makes me feel like I'm just going to ultimately do something to fuck it up (probably open my big mouth.) Or maybe I feel like I don't deserve something that good in the first place or that the guy could do better than me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be perfect by any means, but you want to be what they want. You want to be there everything as realistically as possible. I guess if I were ever put that in position I would be afraid of not being able to sustain that.

That for whatever reason I'm not going to be able to accept being loved. Twenty years is a very long time to not have anybody. K was saying today that she really needed a guy and that it had been a semester since she'd had anyone. Oh, yeah, well, try two decades. I win.

When i was talking to J we brought up my self confidence a few times. I don't really think the random guy can pick up on the fact that it isn't as high as it would be but I think working out and working on my body a little bit will help with that. Mainly because I'd be skinny and I know that people are shallow and would better appreciate that.

I know that may sound silly but at times I feel like i have everything else going for me. I'm smart (or at least I can maintain that illusion. Shit, I go to Duke for crying out loud). I'm funny. I do have this moments. I'm honest. Most other females will bullshit up and down and then around the world but I don't. I don't need much. I'm used to being alone so I don't necessarily need to be hanging on somebody's arm all the time. I'm a great listener and I'm always around when I'm needed.

And when I'm wanted. Whenever that is.

Or isn't. :p

Hey, fuckers, stop asking me stupid questions.

Ok?

Thanks.

Bye.

Last night at dinner my friends and I were doing the typical scoping of guys and Chia points out this one guy. I say he's alright but that I wouldn't suck his dick or anything. [For the record, I'm not a fan of fellatio, so when I say things like that, I'm usually being pretty facetious. Not to say never, but no thanks] Anyway, somehow we get on the topic of who were are into and would have sex with. I make the statement that at this point, my criteria are that he be male (with a penis), breathing, and like me. Chia then points out this one guy. Nap as a muthafucka. NO. So we start talking about which guys would be our limits. We'd fuck him but nobody below up. Kind of our end of the line sort of thing. We then spend the rest of the dinner looking at guys and determining if he is below or above our limit and even trying to figure out who are limits are.

Do you know who your limit is?

Do you think you are anyone else's limit?

Life is only about sex. Fact. This is what I've realized. Anything. Everything. It swirls and surrounds penises and vaginas. Pricks and pussys. Dicks and twats. That's all it's about. This is what 19 years of life has ultimately taught me.

The nicest guy in the world still wants head. The purest lady in the land still writhes in her bed as she slides her fingers into herself. The goal in life is to orgasm. It's to explode. It's too feel beyond words. It to reach the pinnacle of everything and then die.

I think I've had maybe 2 conversations with member of the opposite gender that somehow didn't in some way relate to sex. Sure, I'm a dirty person and lowbrow humor is my forte. (I mean, I laughed at dudes goods flailing about in Observe and Report and I couldn't even tell you why) But there are these times where that isn't my intention, my goal, my aim.

I'm simply being friendly. Striking up a conversation before I'm asked what I'm wearing. Or how big my tits are. Or details of how I masturbate. And, yeah, sure a lot of it could be explained by the company I'm keeping, but certainly not all of it.

And maybe it doesn't go that far. Maybe it's just subtle jokes about fellatio. Or sleeping around. The bottom line is that it all comes down to sex. Only sex.

It gets annoying. I'm more than just a clitoris. At least sometimes.