100% Guilt-Free

Woke up yesterday, and my mom had not gone to work again. That really always annoys me; her sticking around and meddling in everyone’s affairs. She started talking to me about how I really shouldn’t be sleeping with someone unless I was absolutely serious, and started trying to freak me out with a little discourse on STDs. It worked, I was freaked out for about half a day. Especially after she wondered aloud if I was sleeping with Cupido. I was like, Mom! No way in hell. My mom's met Cupido; did I mention he's weird? Yeah, he's really weird. You don't want to be in bed with him.

In most cases, I’m god-awfully responsible about the sex I have and very conscious of what I do and who I sleep with. That they are not out to have suicidal sex is always a pre-requisite. But I’ve got this logic that generally says the more people you sleep with, the more diseases you’ll have. I know it’s fucked up, but think about it. On a very biological count, the space between your legs really is a fantastic breeding ground for all sorts of nasty things. Most of the time, yeah, your body fights them off easily, but the fact remains that sometimes there’ll just be something there, and you’ll spread it. In most cases, they do nothing. I know a couple of people who have had herpes before, big fucking deal. It’s there in you for the rest of your life, but 99.99% of the time, you aren’t even aware of it. But it was definitely food for thought at breakfast this morning, and I was in a pretty bad mood for the rest of the day. Not to mention guilt ridden.

I figured there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I’ve slept with the people I’ve slept with, and there’s nothing that can be done about that. I’m probably going to sleep with a few more people in my life, but I suppose I could start/should revert back to observing a higher measure of discretion. It’s such a pain in the ass that everything in the world is out to ruin you from the day you were born.

Oh for certain, life is just a euphemism for the inevitable decay of our bodies.

Ethan gave me a short ring-up yesterday evening during his lunch. He’s driving me nuts. I am dying to meet him again, and to allow myself to be perfectly, completely absorbed in one singular person. I looked at some old photos yesterday and thought we appeared unforgivably cute in them, especially the ones where we’re nuzzling in bed. Too cute. Ugh.

Met Mike for dinner. I’d sent him a text to tell him I was going to be late, but the new phone is function overloaded and for reasons still unknown to me, I ended up sending it both to him and Mr. Big. How embarrassing, and just that little bit mildly upsetting. But I honestly can’t be bothered to think about it.

Mike’s cool. He comes across as incredibly sincere and easily persuaded, very engaged in me (it doesn’t matter if I have anything to say or not) and polite, without infringing on my right to be a perfectly uncivilized Singaporean. For starters, it’s fine forgetting to close my mouth when I eat. Although it has started to become something I’m unnaturally aware of ever since Martine went into a very graphic discourse on why not doing so is just gross. He opened every single door, likes long unnecessary walks, and thinks my eyes are my prettiest feature, among other things. And finds just about everything I say amusing.

He had been completely exhausted after work yesterday, but met me anyway, and didn’t even show a whit of rotten disposition, because I’m too pretty, too funny, and in a constant state of good spirit. I was actually horribly exhausted on my part, but he didn’t make one wrong move, so I reigned in the bad temper and all was fantastic.

Went for drinks and left him at about 1. He called at about 4 a.m. to tell me he’d just got home. Apparently he’d forgotten those annoying cardkeys you needed to get into the condominium (my condo is still thankfully extremely low-tech) and had waited around at the gate till his roommate got back. Interesting, so he presumed that I would care what time he got home? Not that I didn’t, but it was something fascinating to have noted.

I don’t feel particularly much of anything for him, it was just too easy to have met and gone out with him and gotten him engaged in me. But I really quite like it. Along with the fact that I don’t seem to care very much for his opinion on and about me. It’s positive, and that’s sufficient enough.

Am just reminded of this hilarious website documenting two girls adventures around Europe. They have a guide to dating European men. Not very accurate on some counts (from personal experience) but mostly true anyway. I found enough for comparison to amuse myself anyway.

xoxox