(no subject)
tonight is the pike lingerie party, and im debating whether or not ill show up.last year, a girl was photographed and, somehow, her vagina was exposed. the photo circulated campus, and someone made a singing vagina video (where they made it look like it was talking. technology these days, man).
she transferred.
so, needless to say, this is a serious event.
but before i shower, or even put more thought into getting out of this chair, i should probably articulate the cryptic, miserable, melodramatic late-night remarks ive made.
thursday was our date party.
...and though that might not say enough it sure as hell says a lot.
after alison, alex and i bought forty-five dollars worth of rum, we headed back to the dorms to get dressed, and begin pregaming. we poured ourselves malibu and diet coke, watched the remainder of the oc, and i ran downstairs to grab my date.
he bought me a chocolate rose, and i laughed, because he's one of the biggest closeted homosexuals at this fine university. and that is saying a lot, girlfrennnn.
before i go further, allow me to just say: i looked bangin. like, DAMN good. which only makes the rest of the story more of a shame, shame, shame.
i wore this skin-tight black scoop necked dress, with black pumps and big gold jewlery, and i hadnt really eaten in nearly a week and looked pretty much flawless. straight hair. mascara. clear lip gloss. the works.
the three of us hop-skipped-and-chugged our way to the lodge, and by the time i got to the corner, i was hammered. like, flat-out, stumbling, face-down-in-a-gutter hammered. this was due to the fact that, besides, as i mentioned, i hadnt eaten in a week, i also hadnt eaten all day. when this happens, it is NEVER intentional. i just end up sort of busy and flustered and overwhelmed all day, and forget to eat until i have a moment to sit down and go "wow, im really hungry!!"
so, i'm about four-five shots of rum in, on an empty stomach.
...and i'm surrounded by couples.
after taking on the added stress of fitting 100 drunken japs onto a party bus (complete with stripper pole), i end up sitting diametrically across from someone ive kissed, and his girlfriend. this is getting worse and worse. on my right is a boy ive slept with, and his girlfriend.
i stare at the cieling, which has rainbow tube lights and those black-light pictures that make me nauseus. my gay date tries to make me smile. alison and alex and their dates (blindly set up with ugly and uglier... no joke -- one of their nicknames was SHREK. hi mom, meet my future husband, shrek. good lord) are at the front of the bus.
i want to kill myself.
i stumble off the bus, and stand outside the nightclub (location of our date party), shivering, waiting to get into a party i dont want to be at.
i run to the bar. literally, knocking bitches down, completely ignoring girls that i am obligated, not just socially, but as a PLEDGE, to address. i get there, and my friend amanda hands me two of her shots. straight down the pipe. i order a mixed drink and another shot. i feel like im going to vomit.
i stumble, and bump into cara. there are two more boys, in attendance, it seems, are past hook-ups as well. the total count hits four. i ask cara to have a cigarette, and we take a seat in the very back of the club. and... it hits me.
i am alone.
i am with a fag at my date party. and all the past gentlemen, even the ones that mean nothing, even the ones who would have gone with me had i asked, are there. with other people.
it is almost valentines day, and i am alone.
i start crying. not just like, a sad, single tear down cheek, native-american style crying, a violent, sobbing, weeping, snot-down-my-face crying. i try to talk to cara, but she can barely understand the words coming out of my mouth. she pets my hair and finally, when im coherent again, we head to the bathroom to clean up.
i let her return to her date, and nurse a kitkat bar taken from the bathroom attendant. i finish my drink. i see alison.
and i start crying again. i am a wreck. i have mascara down near my ankles, practically. im sitting in the corner, just, entirely absolutely miserable. i hate myself. the president of the sorority asks me how i am, but the sweet voices and pretty outfits of all of my friends, just make me cry more.
i clean myself up again, smile for some photos, try and dance, and my friend ben asks me if i want another drink.
the only possible response is "fuck yeah"
i chug half my corona, and end up chatting with him in the corner. his ex-girlfriend who he still loves is at the party. we kiss, for just a moment, and bring the official total count to five, and then i tell him "go tell taylor how you feel. you have to tell her"
i return to the party, sit in a different corner ALONE while alison gets her jacket, and then get into the most awkward cab of all time, and go home.
besides the terrible atmosphere we must consider my low blood sugar, combined with my supressed emotional state and fond memories of constant rejection, in addition to the five-minute talk id had with my father about how i am going to be a spinster as huge factors in my complete breakdown. its been a long time since ive cried so intensely for so long, but i find now, that there are a lot of things needing resolution.
things seemed to have gotten much better since the date party, but my moment of vulnerability hangs like a cloud over the last two days. i just didnt think i had that in me.
as a general recourse, i have eaten an entire container of cookie dough, cuddled in my bed, watched two wonderful movies, chainsmoked, refrained from any school work, slept a lot and eaten bagel palace, which is phenomenal. and it just reminds me how the little pleasures can make you happy again.
she transferred.
so, needless to say, this is a serious event.
but before i shower, or even put more thought into getting out of this chair, i should probably articulate the cryptic, miserable, melodramatic late-night remarks ive made.
thursday was our date party.
...and though that might not say enough it sure as hell says a lot.
after alison, alex and i bought forty-five dollars worth of rum, we headed back to the dorms to get dressed, and begin pregaming. we poured ourselves malibu and diet coke, watched the remainder of the oc, and i ran downstairs to grab my date.
he bought me a chocolate rose, and i laughed, because he's one of the biggest closeted homosexuals at this fine university. and that is saying a lot, girlfrennnn.
before i go further, allow me to just say: i looked bangin. like, DAMN good. which only makes the rest of the story more of a shame, shame, shame.
i wore this skin-tight black scoop necked dress, with black pumps and big gold jewlery, and i hadnt really eaten in nearly a week and looked pretty much flawless. straight hair. mascara. clear lip gloss. the works.
the three of us hop-skipped-and-chugged our way to the lodge, and by the time i got to the corner, i was hammered. like, flat-out, stumbling, face-down-in-a-gutter hammered. this was due to the fact that, besides, as i mentioned, i hadnt eaten in a week, i also hadnt eaten all day. when this happens, it is NEVER intentional. i just end up sort of busy and flustered and overwhelmed all day, and forget to eat until i have a moment to sit down and go "wow, im really hungry!!"
so, i'm about four-five shots of rum in, on an empty stomach.
...and i'm surrounded by couples.
after taking on the added stress of fitting 100 drunken japs onto a party bus (complete with stripper pole), i end up sitting diametrically across from someone ive kissed, and his girlfriend. this is getting worse and worse. on my right is a boy ive slept with, and his girlfriend.
i stare at the cieling, which has rainbow tube lights and those black-light pictures that make me nauseus. my gay date tries to make me smile. alison and alex and their dates (blindly set up with ugly and uglier... no joke -- one of their nicknames was SHREK. hi mom, meet my future husband, shrek. good lord) are at the front of the bus.
i want to kill myself.
i stumble off the bus, and stand outside the nightclub (location of our date party), shivering, waiting to get into a party i dont want to be at.
i run to the bar. literally, knocking bitches down, completely ignoring girls that i am obligated, not just socially, but as a PLEDGE, to address. i get there, and my friend amanda hands me two of her shots. straight down the pipe. i order a mixed drink and another shot. i feel like im going to vomit.
i stumble, and bump into cara. there are two more boys, in attendance, it seems, are past hook-ups as well. the total count hits four. i ask cara to have a cigarette, and we take a seat in the very back of the club. and... it hits me.
i am alone.
i am with a fag at my date party. and all the past gentlemen, even the ones that mean nothing, even the ones who would have gone with me had i asked, are there. with other people.
it is almost valentines day, and i am alone.
i start crying. not just like, a sad, single tear down cheek, native-american style crying, a violent, sobbing, weeping, snot-down-my-face crying. i try to talk to cara, but she can barely understand the words coming out of my mouth. she pets my hair and finally, when im coherent again, we head to the bathroom to clean up.
i let her return to her date, and nurse a kitkat bar taken from the bathroom attendant. i finish my drink. i see alison.
and i start crying again. i am a wreck. i have mascara down near my ankles, practically. im sitting in the corner, just, entirely absolutely miserable. i hate myself. the president of the sorority asks me how i am, but the sweet voices and pretty outfits of all of my friends, just make me cry more.
i clean myself up again, smile for some photos, try and dance, and my friend ben asks me if i want another drink.
the only possible response is "fuck yeah"
i chug half my corona, and end up chatting with him in the corner. his ex-girlfriend who he still loves is at the party. we kiss, for just a moment, and bring the official total count to five, and then i tell him "go tell taylor how you feel. you have to tell her"
i return to the party, sit in a different corner ALONE while alison gets her jacket, and then get into the most awkward cab of all time, and go home.
besides the terrible atmosphere we must consider my low blood sugar, combined with my supressed emotional state and fond memories of constant rejection, in addition to the five-minute talk id had with my father about how i am going to be a spinster as huge factors in my complete breakdown. its been a long time since ive cried so intensely for so long, but i find now, that there are a lot of things needing resolution.
things seemed to have gotten much better since the date party, but my moment of vulnerability hangs like a cloud over the last two days. i just didnt think i had that in me.
as a general recourse, i have eaten an entire container of cookie dough, cuddled in my bed, watched two wonderful movies, chainsmoked, refrained from any school work, slept a lot and eaten bagel palace, which is phenomenal. and it just reminds me how the little pleasures can make you happy again.