the best way to get over one
is to get on top of another
is to get on top of another
i don't like AIDs. this fact, coupled with my fear of countless other STDs has prevented me from getting over my most recent ex...or so i've been told. i wasn't aware that my safety conscious attitude towards sex was an issue until my friend sat me down and dropped a deuce of truth in my lap. if it weren't for her enlightenment i would have been trapped in a very sanitary cage of celibacy for the rest of my natural born life...or at least until i got over my ex.
"ash- this summer has turned you into a social recluse! where have you been hiding? i never see you anymore!" i couldn't tell if she was genuinely upset or mocking me. "tell me- what you do outside of work? do you ever just wake up and do something crazy and unplanned?" i hate when peers ask that question. i've yet to find the perfect words to explain the delicate balance between spontaneity and rigidity in my world.
most of those i know live a life that's more conducive to last minute adventures. the life i've lead since dropping out of college at 18 has been consumed with plans, dreams, hopes and wishes- all devoted to my work. no relationship, party, friend or foe could prove to be more attractive than my goals. to this day very little can sway me from that path. sometimes it's lonely in the sense that i'm alone, but i've always been a relentless believer in hard work pays off, so whether it's now or 10 years from now i know i'll achieve what i've set out to do. that fact makes me happy.
this year, my year and a half long relationship dissolved along with the passage of spring. the only fiery-love left in my life comes from my work. no woman or activity has ever brought me the unrelenting joy and pleasure that work has. from my job that pays the bills to all the work surrounding my writing (blog and otherwise); the power that comes from creating is an infectious one. i've certainly felt that passion in my relationships with people but clearly nothing that has stuck with me longer than a few years.
i'm beginning to believe that work is the only lover i'll keep throughout the rest my days...and at the moment, that's an eerily comforting thought.
my friend, knowing my stance on work, snapped me back to reality by grabbing my face and stating, "you need to get laid." her blasé tone made me laugh. was she really speaking about sex in such a flat way? i told her, "it doesn't work like that for me. sex isn't an action as much as it's a reaction in my world. it has to be motivated by something in order to actually accomplish anything. if i went around slayin' hotties i don't think i'd feel nearly as fulfilled as i do when i complete a task."
after nearly falling out of her chair in a fit of laughter, my friend composed herself just enough to say, "you just compared sex- one of the most tribal, animalistic rituals man practices- to 'completing a task'." i corrected her, "i believe i put the task above sex, thank you very much." needless to say, she didn't share my enthusiasm. she kept stressing that i'm never going to escape the feeling of being in a relationship until i prove to myself that i'm not. that sounds like a rational line of thinking until you realize she's not talking about moving on so much as sleeping with others.
is it just me? am i the only one who sees the disconnect between the two? they aren't one in the same and yet everyone's advice is- get over one by getting under another.
i can't help but feel like i did in middle school when everyone had boyfriends except for me. my friends were learning how to kiss while i was picking popcorn out of my braces. i never felt bad about where i was in life until a popular girl alerted me to the devastating realization that i was lame. i was a virgin who couldn't drive. all the boys in school were lusting after my high-school attending sister. i still collected pogs (but only played the game by myself, which is arguably more lame than the fact that i simply collected them). i didn't even realize how lame i was until she took my bag of YIKES pencils and threatened to trash them. my squeal of terror did nothing to stop her ally-oop to the trashcan but it did confirm that we had different priorities.
without the help of that little douchette in seventh grade, my lameness would have probably spiraled out of control until i finally went through puberty 5 years later. the question now is, do i allow my beloved yikes pencils to be stolen and trashed once more? do i really get over one by sleeping with many? do i allow the words surrounding me to become my own?
i should stress the fact that i mean all of that in a rhetorcial sense. i'm content and completely satisfied throwing myself into my job. if crossing my legs and not partying makes me a prude- so be it...that makes for more porntime for me SUCKAS! plus, i really don't think that getting naked with new friends would make me feel anything but awkward...and lord knows i don't need help in that department!