Don’t get me wrong. I love to drink. Not just to get drunk, either—alcohol is delicious. I’ve had my share of the cheap stuff, but lately, more and more, I’ve been spending the extra dollar to get quality. Craggenmore, Maker’s Mark, Belvedere, Oban, and plenty of upper end red wines. It’s just a more enjoyable experience.
However, lately, the drinking has escalated to levels I’m not entirely comfortable with. I’ve thrown money away at bars, on drinks for myself and others. Part of that may be that now, for the first time in awhile, I have a job where I’m actually making a notable amount of money, so it’s easier to justify a ten dollar drink. Of course, when I’m having four or five of those ten dollar drinks in a night, multiple nights a week…that’s when the problems set in.
The other night, I went out for oysters and beer with my best friend. A local bar offered a special for a half dozen Blue Point oysters (my current favorite kind of oyster, large and briney) and a beer, all for only twelve dollars. Three rounds of that, plus cocktails, plus shots…and we’d only just begun our night. At the next bar I had scotch. At the next, Kahlua. I don’t remember how the night ended, but I woke up surrounded by fourteen dollars worth of McDonalds. Not that I ate the McDonalds—oh no. Based on the evidence surrounding me, I bought the food, got into my bed, and passed out, leaving a feast for the cats. This is a notion painfully reconstructed from the evidence around me and what little testimony to the night my best friend could provide.
Neither the shame nor the hangover prevented me from drinking two nights later, however, during and after a concert. I went—again, with my best friend—to see The Pretty Reckless, and enjoyed overpriced beer and wine while at the concert. We met up with a few friends afterwards, and one of them bought me two White Russians. I followed with Kahlua and Maker’s Mark before someone bought a bottle of Absolut, complete with various mixers, for the table. I couldn’t not drink that!
Again, cue hangover. These nights, while more extreme than others, are just the most recent in a series of drunken events that have been going on for the past several months. Is it fun? Absolutely. But it’s also incredibly irresponsible, unhealthy, and just plain dangerous. I need to take a step back and get my life back on track before I let alcohol into my body again.
But I will, of course. Eventually. And it will be good.
So in the past I’ve tended to find someone I was interested in and latch onto them, no matter how improbable a relationship was or how little I knew them. And, obviously, it just ended in me being hurt and/or disappointed.
I’m considering trying something else. Just…dating casually. Meeting people. Maybe classifying it as a date, maybe not. Maybe kissing. Maybe having sex. Maybe seeing them again. Maybe just being friends. Nothing serious, just meeting new guys, chatting, having fun, whatever. I’m young, why get so involved?
Hopefully, in this process, someone will jump out at me as someone special, someone I actually am interested in beyond just casual dates, for reasons beyond just an instant infatuation—maybe I actually, you know, like who the person is. Shock, right?
So I think this is what I’m going to try for awhile. Thoughts? Drop them in my Ask, I like getting feedback on my LIFE DECISIONS.
To a lot of the people I talk to, it’s no secret that I’ve been having a fair amount of sex these past few months. Over the weekend, it hit a point I’m honestly not sure I’m comfortable with—I hooked up with a guy at his apartment on Friday night, planned a hookup for Saturday that fell through, began hooking up with someone on Saturday night that only fell through because his friend got sick while we were in the middle of sex, and then immediately after went to someone else’s apartment to have sex with them. Add in another hookup on Sunday that fell through, and plans made for several other hookups in the near future, and you’d think I was having the time of my life, right?
Wrong. Because I don’t want to consider myself a slut, even though, based on my actions, I’m probably at that level right now. I joke about it with friends, but it sort of scares me, because it’s not who I thought I’d be, and it’s not who I want to be. In many ways, I’m a traditional person. I want somebody that I can talk to, that I can spend time with, that I can cuddle with on the couch while watching television, that I can maybe even imagine a future with.
When I’m horny, those aren’t exactly my priorities—I want to get off as fast and as fun as possible. It’s this mentality that has led me to traveling forty minutes to an entirely different part of New York City for sex; for going to someone’s apartment to be serviced by two guys at once; to sleeping with people who are noticeably older than I’d even consider otherwise. And at the time, it was fun, I don’t deny it (well, the guy in Queens was hilariously awful and I couldn’t even finish, but I digress). But immediately afterwards, it was, at best, incredibly awkward, at worst, arguably dangerous, and in all but maybe one or two situations, something I regret on most levels.
I’ve mentioned before that I lost my virginity to someone I didn’t care for at all. He was someone at my school, and he was certainly the most talented person I’ve ever fooled around with—and I’m not even basing that on the fact that, at the time, I had no experience: he was exceptionally talented, in many ways. He’s also the hottest person I’ve hooked up with, even if he was too effeminate for my tastes, and I certainly could’ve done a lot worse (and I have).
But I didn’t have the loving, caring experience that I’d recommend for people losing their virginity. I’ll never have that experience, where I’m with someone I trust to take care of me, where I can give something of myself that I’ve never given before. I whole-heartedly wish I could take that back, but I can’t, and that’s something I’ll have to live with. Perhaps as a result of choosing to lose my virginity in a casual fling, I’ve let myself have sex with more people than I expected in this short a period of time (although I definitely know people that have done worse). My parents would cry. Some of my friends are judging me. I’m judging myself, even, and I’m not happy with it.
When I was dating Ethan, I fell too hard, too fast, and in retrospect it was troubling, but he was the first boy I let myself really feel for, and as a result he was a significant “first”. And during those two or three weeks, I was happier than I’d been in a long time. I loved dating him. I loved the feel of sharing myself with someone, and them sharing themselves with me. We were never in a relationship, but I had no trouble imagining the idea of an “us”. Ultimately, of course, he didn’t feel the same way, and I respect that. I’ve honestly moved on, I no longer consider it an issue, and I’m glad we were able to remain friends—but I can’t help but miss the things I felt while I was dating him. I arguably enjoyed the experience of dating, rather than dating him—because he was right, we are better off as friends. But I learned a lot about myself and about my views on relationships while I was dating him, and for that I will always be grateful.
I haven’t had any luck in finding anyone. There are people I’ve asked out who have turned me down, pulled away, or both. There are people who’ve expressed romantic interest in me that I’m simply not attracted to. There are people I feel a physical attraction for who simply aren’t relationship material at this point in their lives. There are many people who are just looking for the next good fuck, instead of the next good love. There are people who are too young, or too busy, or too geographically undesirable. And then there’s the rare, fantastic guy who may even otherwise be interested in me…if they weren’t completely and happily taken by someone else. Nothing productive will come of any of this.
I know that there’s someone out there for me; I choose to believe that. I just wish I knew how to find him.
7. I wish I was still a virgin.
This. Sex is fun, but honestly, I’m really wishing I’d waited for someone I really cared about for my first time. I’ve honestly never even slept with anyone I really cared about—it’s just been meaningless hookups, and it’s honestly kind of boring, depressing and even embarrassing.
i’m starting to question the concept of sexual orientation as a whole. i have always labeled myself as bisexual because i am attracted to both genders and i’m open to having either a straight or lesbian relationship. but then i think about the term pansexual and what people define it as. in most cases, people coin the term as being someone who is able to love another person despite their gender, and in other words, they are able to look past the name of another’s genitals and love them for them. if that is the truest definition out there, i would consider myself pansexual. but in all seriousness, i don’t really like labeling myself in the first place. i love who i love and that’s it. it’s simple. i think people glamourize sexual orientation too much, though. homosexuality, heterosexuality, bisexuality, asexuality, pansexuality. they’re just classifications people put on other people, or people put on themselves, to segregate one from another. but are they really accurate? if you label yourself as pansexual, could you actually love someone who is transgendered or something like that? i know some people who wouldn’t be able to answer that question. if you label yourself as heterosexual, have you never thought about/seen another person of the same gender in a sexual or attractive way? if you label yourself as asexual, were you always like that? because, if what people say about not choosing who you like is true, then a specific person or relationship couldn’t have made you become asexual. i think sexual orientation is just a way to identify yourself.
and also, if you’re gay, cool. if you’re straight, that’s cool too. but don’t judge people based on that alone. i’m sick of gay people getting bashed on for liking the same gender. “you choose to like guys. that’s wrong.” “go kill yourself, faggot.” “lesbians are hot just because they kiss other girls.” i’ve heard those remarks from straight people numerous times. what if gay people bash on you when your backs are turned? heterosexuality is the norm. it’s what people expect from other people in this society. it doesn’t have to be that way, though.
i’m bisexual, like i said. but if i truly wanted to, i could identify as straight, lesbian, or pansexual. hell, some days i could even say i’m asexual because i want everyone to leave me alone. people are so distraught over others’ lifestyles, and it sickens me. stop worrying about what others are doing with their lives and focus on your own. sexual orientation is just one characteristic of who people are. i’m pretty sure people don’t carry around signs saying “I’M GAY” or “I’M STRAIGHT” above their heads.
This is something I’ve fought with myself about a lot. On an intellectual level, I don’t like labels. I don’t believe they’re necessary. We’re all people—we can be attracted to who we’re attracted to, and love who we love, without needing to take a couple of letters and use them to define us.
On the other hand, I’ve accepted that I’m gay. It’s just not something that’s really open for debate—I’m attracted to men, not women. While I may, on one level, want to bypass labels entirely, I would be denying certain truths if I didn’t acknowledge this one. This may not make sense to everyone, but for me, it just is.
Going to another level—embracing this identity has given me a certain level of strength and confidence in myself that I just didn’t have when I was pushing away all labels. This probably isn’t true for everyone, but for me, it made a real, tangible difference in my life, and that’s something I have to respect.
I think that the world would be a better place if we could all set aside the need for labels in regards to our sexuality, or for anything else, really (you want to believe in God one way? Cool, I’ll go believe in God a different way, we’re still both religious, why make it more complicated than that?) But in the world we live in now, I think that these labels have a certain power, and I can’t ignore that.
I don’t know if anyone will read this or if it’ll make any sense to anyone who does, but it’s something I had to write.
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