The 7 Stages of Realizing You Are Probably Not Going to Have Sex For a Really Long Time

Remember the other day (aka yesterday) when I spoke of how I came to accept the fact that I probably won't be having sex for at least the next 3 years of my life?

Well, actually it was a lot more complicated than that. I went through a series of emotions over the course of several months and only just recently come to terms with this fact of my life.**

So, with no further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present that which I gone through great pains to compile: The very, very scientific 7 stages of realizing you are probably not going to have sex for a really long time

1. Shock and Denial

No sex? For how long? Impossible. That is simply impossible! I'll find someone. I will resort to a fuck buddy if I have to. Even if he has weird chest hair. No, surely things will even out, just give it a little time is all. A good opportunity will show up in no time.

2. Pain and Guilt

No sex? For how long? How am I going to function? I will go insane. I AM going insane. Why did I ever put myself in this situation? It was such a mistake. How can this be happening to me??

3. Anger

This is not ok! These idiots wouldn't see someone sexy if it were sitting on their lap, doing horribly perverted and unspeakable acts. It is all other people's fault. They are the ones creating situations where there is barely even a possibility of sex. ARGH! I am so horny right now I could just scream.

4. Bargaining

Alright, I am just going to make my life SO busy there won't even be time to think about sex. And I am going to wait 4 weeks, and if something doesn't happen, I will MAKE it happen. Just you see. Besides, none of my friends are really having good sex anyways. It is not like I am missing out on anything.

5. Depression, Reflection, and Loneliness

Oh my god, I am never going to have sex again. No one will ever love me. I am going to lay in this bed forever. I am never coming out. I will just be here, alone, until the end of time, all dried up, snuggling with this body pillow. I will probably end up with a dozen cats. Maybe I should jump the gun and go get them all now. Start early. Please...just don't even talk to me anymore. Me and this bucket of ice cream having catching up to do. Maybe I just have too many issues, you know? No one wants to be with a crazy person. God, where did I go wrong?

6. Reconstruction and Working Through

Ok, so I have managed to pull myself out of bed downtown to the seedy sex shop and bought the nicest vibrator I could afford ($5). I guess this will tide me over, for now anyways. And you know, there is that cute guy from starbucks I see sometimes. He is totally not my type, but its fun to think about, if you know what I mean.

7. Acceptance and Hope

You know, I am really productive when I am not thinking about sex all the time. I even have time to get myself in shape! Maybe if I do that, some guy will eventually hit on me. Some DECENT guy. But you know, guys around me these days are really stupid, and I don't want to settle for some loser. So I will wait for the right person and in the meantime do other things that I want to do. And maybe one day, in the future, I will have sex again....Yea.... Everything is going to be ok.

**I'd like to just say, for the record, that I am not really THAT obsessed with sex. If I were, I would be out there doing it like a slutty slut-face, and not here, complaining about it. I could probably write the same post about pasta. And knowing me, I probably will...Yea, you know what? If reading this kind of grosses you out, just replace the word sex or anything to do with sex with pasta and pasta-related vocabulary. That is also my life right now.

An Explanation

Truthfully, the titles of "sexless," and "cynical," were not originally intended for me. However, I thought there was a nice ring to it and made it the title of this blog. And also my life. Because it is true. And here is why.

Even though I am blossoming into the second decade of my life, I have only ever had 2 (yes, two, count em up on one hand baby) real relationships. One "long-term" relationship in high school, and one in my first year of college, which was a very short relationship (but about the same in terms of things that happened). Both were both very melodramatic in a way that makes me too embarrassed to talk about the details. All I will say is in one relationship I was fully on board with taking it seriously, and in the other, it scared the shit out of me. Can you guess which was which??

The reason I have only ever had 2 relationships is not because guys don't pay attention to me...

oh wait...

it is.

Ok, well, guys probably do pay some degree of attention to me. I do have a rather large butt that is hard NOT to notice. If they are into that, anyways. But they might pay attention to my gorgeous, dazzling face if I didn't have a little something called Chronic Bitch Face (the scientific term being Chronicus bitchilithus facetious)

I, like many others, suffer from this disease on a daily basis. I was born with this sickness, and find it crippling in every day life. As a child even the wiliest of comedic photographers could not get me to smile, and growing up I suffered the shame of people asking me "Hey, are you ok? What's wrong?" on a regular basis when I was just sitting there normally and minding my own business. And when I AM pissed off, no one can ever tell. It is crippling!

Of course, paired with my irrational fear of eye contact, talking with my mouth, using words, and all of those other fancy social maneuvers, this makes it very difficult in meeting new people. This includes those human creatures with male genitalia.

Which leads to why the guys who are interested in me are the kind who have lots of mommy issues and want to cling on to me for dear life like a fat kid to his hidden stash of twinkies when his parents want him to go on a diet. They are the ones who actually have the guts to start things. Because they feel they desperately need me. Or at least somebody. I just happen to be around. I also happen to know what video games are, which is a big plus for them.

Now, generally these are very nice, sweet guys. And it can be fun to have someone around who worships the ground you walk on and kisses every one of your toes.

Or it can make you totally INSANE.

When a guy kisses you twice and professes his undying love to you within a week on the relationship, and then wants to start planning your lives together for years into the future...yea it's a little bit freaky. Don't get me wrong, I like being told how I awesome I am, but c'mon guys, even I secretly know I have issues. I guess having boyfriends that cry in the name of romance in front of you can make you just the teeniest bit cynical.

And now to the sexless.

You don't need a relationship to have sex, but it helps. In my case, it is highly preferable. As much fun as those clumsy- and usually drunken- encounters are, I would rather not face the awkward walk of shame and/or the having to look that person in the eye knowing I probably delivered my absolute worst performance ever to them for weeks to come. It's like if you got up on stage to sing and you forgot all the words and had a cold....and then you slept with the audience. And then you had to see them again every day.

I go to a very, very small school that I estimate has a population of about 75% girls. By this math, there might be 100 guys at my school. 20 in my program. 5 or 6 in my class. If it doesn't suck enough that the pool is narrowed down this far, keep in mind that I go to an ART school. In California. Where EVERYONE is weird. The men of LCAD are quite, er, colorful. But more on that later. I have yet to meet one single person that I consider "normal," or in other words "fully socially and mentally functional and flexible." Even if I lowered my standards a disgusting amount, few would even come close to making my list.

So add up all of these things and how could my life be anything BUT sexless and cynical?

At first I was sad when I came upon the realization that I will not be participating in the classic college relationship experiences. You know the one where you get to be a slut half the time and the other half the time you have a pretty decent boyfriend because guys actually become pretty decent sometimes when they reach their 20s (sometimes, not always). But it's ok, I think most of my friends have apparently taken all these guys. Including the ones they get to be sluts with. And I wouldn't want to steal them from my friends.

But then I came to accept it. And now I revel in it. For I am highly productive and if I were to be having sex, I wouldn't have the time to write all these blogs about how I am not having sex. I have reached a mindless calm. I don't need sex to function. I have stopped thinking about it altogether, really. I feel at this point, even if it were offered, I might actually turn it down.

Also my roommates wouldn't like me having wild sex all over the apartment, as I inevitably would if the opportunity so arose, after having pretended to be above and beyond it and all that other crap first of course.

Trying To Be Funny

I started this blog for several reasons. The first was to keep me writing about something other than my melodrama on a regular basis. The second was to prove to people like my mother that I am actually training for the upcoming mud run (or at least trying). The third was to try and sharpen my comedic skills.

In recent months, I have been tiring myself with my lame over-dramatic, depressed journals to myself and my meaningful, romantic story lines in all of the fiction I have ever written...ever. You know, the kind of stuff where the most pedantic of objects have deep, deep meaning, there are lots of meaningful glances and glares, and it's all part of a greater message about the world. After years and years of writing crap like that, it only reinforces those feelings until you reach your existentialist peak in life, in which you go into a mid-existential crisis crisis. Which I guess means investing in that comedy-convertible, or a COMVERTIBLE.

See what I did there?

Beyond that, my interest in comedy has been growing. I thoroughly enjoy comedic things, so why can't I create my own?

(This is code for: No one pays any attention to me! I want people to listen to me!! I guess I will have to be funny)

Unfortunately my melodrama is one tough bugger to shake, and being funny is hard. :(

Aw. Poor me.

!!?!

...See??

So I have been trying to figure it out for myself, mostly through trial and error. Although, due to a lack of feedback, I mostly have just been randomly doing things.

Last November, when thinking about how I wanted to be more funny, I sat down and *tried* to write a list of funny things to talk/write about. I won't say whether or not I think this list was at all a good uh...jumping off point, but you can decide for yourself. At least it is working as fodder for this *hopefully* funny blog post, right?

Here is how the making of the list went.

----

I was sitting alone in my apartment late one night with my writing journal in hand. I wrote down the title of the list to start

Things to write about that might be funny

and underlined it.

Always need to underline the title. It isn't a list unless you underline the title.

Ok, so now I've got to think of something funny. What's funny? Hm....I looked up and gazed around the apartment. Funny things are usually every day things, right? My eyes settled on the pillows on the couch.

1. pillows

Yes. Perfect. Pillows are hilarious. I am laughing just thinking about them. Such ridiculous objects. They are so puffy and full of cotton.

...ok. Maybe not. But the fact that I wrote down pillows is kind of funny in and of itself.

2. a list starting with pillows

...And believe it or not, right now that is proving to be true (I hope)

Alright what else is funny? I am going to be honest with you here, I am not sure what I was thinking for a few of these. The third item on the list is one of them

3. Comedy writers extraordinaire

Not really sure about the direction on that one.

Ok, what about my life is funny?

4. Young females living together --> grittier than you'd think

Yes, "grittier." Three well off white females living in Orange County. SO gritty. You wouldn't even believe. And by gritty, I mean that we have a lot of dishes in the sink and our toilets are kind of gross because we are too lazy to clean them. Hey, what can I say? My family usually paid someone to do it for us.

Damn, so gritty.

5. art school teachers

Actually, that one is pretty legit. They ARE pretty ridiculous. I would know. I live in California, where ridiculous artists flock to find out they can't make any money unless they teach. And shame on the ones that grew up here. They should have known better.

Ok, brace yourself for the next few.

6. Dangerous lives

7. Vodka commercials

8. Alter egos

9. Video game formulas

I think I hit upon genius here. My specificity really digs in and provides some great insights on life. You can hope to see these in my upcoming stand-up routine everybody. Prepare to have your mind BLOWN.

And finally, my favorite.

10. Pick apart words

...like convey

and off to the side on the opposite page is a note I had written to myself earlier that says

Learn more about the word convey

Of course. Convey is such a strange word when you really think about it. "Con," and "vey." Whoa. There is really a lot to pick apart there. I will probably have to do a lot of research to figure out the latin roots and ultimate meaning of the word, then I can twist it around and play on it's meaning. I can already see my imaginary audience in stitches, simply begging for more.

And at that point, I got tired from all the brainstorming, and having been so pleased with my work thus far, I went to bed.

---

So what do you think? Funny stuff, right?

Alright, so maybe I am not exactly comedy genius just yet. But to be fair, a lot of these things you could probably spin in the proper way to have some humor. I just don't know how to do it yet. I guess another one of the transformations I want to happen is to turn into super fit hilarious badass lady.

Is there such thing as a hilarious badass?

If there isn't, I will be the first!

Scary OCD Runner People

So a few days ago I wrote about liking salad right? And the other day I wrote a Facebook status expressing my mysterious desire to go running...even though I had already been running that day!

Friend, I know the warning signs of a scary OCD runner person when I see them.

Let me explain to you, dear reader, my experiences with the people who I have known that do an excessive amount of running. There have not been a lot of them. Running isn't really "hip" or "cool" when you are in high school or college. The hip, cool thing to do is drown yourself in flavored vodka until your liver exasperatedly throws its metaphorical hands in the air and says "fuck it!" and then you black out. Doing that and running never really coincide, unless you drunkenly dare someone at a party to race down the block in the nude.

But the people I do know that run a lot scare me, frankly. They get up super early! They get sweaty multiple times a day. They give up their precious 2 hours of break at a girl scout camp to go running. I always wanted to do nothing but sit my ass on the couch when I was working with 24 nine years old at a time for 22 straight hours, not go running, especially at an elevation of 8,000 feet. I always stared in wonder as they could pass over plates of cake or cookies (girl scout cookies on some occasions, no less!) in favor of a few pieces of fruit or sometimes even nothing at all instead. Anyone who can resist that clearly must be some sort of alien creature. Or at least have severe brain injury.

I remember once during my PE class in 9th grade I was walking uncomfortably close behind two girls who were talking on one of our "aerobic walks." (It was an aerobics class taught by a very Boulder-y kind of guy, and to be fair, I got some of my best workouts in that class, so no making fun of our frilly walking workouts). I could have very well been a part of the conversation, but being the awkward 14 year old that I was, I did not participate, thus amping up my awkwardness stat points (I was on a roll at that age). Anyways, after a long, strange, and enlightening discussion about incest, they talked about running. One girl told the other that running is technically considered a disease.

This always stuck with me. Because it almost kind of makes sense, doesn't it? Ignoring the fact that there aren't any actual studies or articles backing up this idea, when you think about it, yea! Totally! That could be real!

But seriously, when people "go running" they aren't really running for any purpose. They are just running. Like the crazy people they are. Back in the old days, people always ran for a purpose. They ran to hunt down that tasty rabbit. They ran...away from the hungry lion. They ran to catch up with their tribe that woke up early and left in the hopes of leaving the annoying one behind. And so on. Seriously guys, I'm taking 2 western civ classes right now, I should know.

But now, we run because we need to stay physically active in our otherwise sedentary lives, right? Eventually though, we become healthy and have exercised plenty for the day, right? Running beyond that is just an obsession! A crazy, scary OCD obsession. All these people are out there, among us, hiding (but not really because you can usually tell since they all resemble beanpoles) falling into the trap of addiction.

And I am becoming one of them.

Super badass fit ladies are not the same as crazy OCD runner people. We still know how to be cool (without battling our liver on a daily basis, of course).

What can I do to combat this and still be badass? Clearly, I need to make sure that I remind myself everyday how nice it is to sit on my butt and watch people thousands of miles away play video games over internet streams. Just as long as they are badass video games. Also, they say just putting on your pajamas every day will motivate yourself to be lazy, even if it's only for just another 6 hours. To amp up my badass level during these activities, I should probably wear lots of black or leather pajamas, swear a lot, and maybe listen to some intense rap or electronic music.

Don't worry though, guys. I know I am not yet a scary OCD runner person, because even though I feel the desire to run more than once a day, as soon as I DO start running, immediately my body turns into lead and my head starts screaming "WHY IS THIS A GOOD IDEA AGAIN? MAYBE I SHOULD STOP! OH GOD THE PAIN IN MY LUNGS IS LIKE TORTURE. I AM NEVER GOING RUNNING AGAIN!"

....So it's probably still a long way to go for me.

Salad and Me: The Start of Something Good

I'm not exactly the most nutritious person in the world. I like pasta probably in the same way a crack head likes cocaine and I had to force myself to stop eating goldfish last semester because I was going through a family sized box every two weeks. Heck, if you give me a bag of original style lays, I will eat them at a mind bending rate until my tongue is sore and swollen.

These days I have been trying to trade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for salads at lunch time. Dear God is it difficult. Not only has PB&J been my standard lunch choice for the past 13 years of my life, but I have never once have I ever thought "Hey, you know what sounds really good right now? A salad!"

I already know that giving your body a nice, hearty salad is like giving our puppy Daisy a new toy. It's overjoyed! A new toy for me to tear apart and turn into uncontrolled energy? Hooray!

It's just so darn healthy! Right? So why do I still not want it?

Because it's about as boring as an airplane ride where you forgot to bring a book.

BUT! And don't ever tell my father this (who has held the regional title of 'king of salad-loving' in the state of Colorado for the past 5 years or so) ...I am learning to like salads despite this fact.

Now first off, let me describe my typical salad, because it's not like most salads. The salad I prepare regularly has these 3 key ingredients:

-Fresh, raw spinach

-Cherry tomatoes

-Carrot sticks

Along with these other optional items (depending on what has been on sale at the store):

-Feta cheese

-Walnuts

-Green bell peppers

-Blueberries

-Cranberries

-Chicken (if I have some left over, which is almost never because I never cook chicken)

And that's it. That's right folks. You read it right, I'm not missing anything. NO SALAD DRESSING. I don't do condiments. Just not a condiment kind of person. I don't put ketchup on my fries or burger. I barely even like marinara sauce on my spaghetti (although I'm always 100% for cream sauce...mmm, pass the alfredo please!) I'm a full-on bland-tasting-food-loving person. Get this: I love tofu...even when it is plain!!

Plain for me, all the way, all day!

...So you can understand my plight.

But see, I have found new and exciting ways to appreciate salad for lunch. They are listed here for your perusing pleasure.

1. Time to eat

First off, the biggest benefit by far is that it takes quite a bit of time to eat a salad. It takes forever to stab anything with your fork properly. And then there is all that munching and crunching. It's slow business. So by the time I am done eating, everyone else with me has long finished their food and I don't have to sit and watch/hear them eat and pine for their carb-alicious treats. Like those pop-tarts they got from the vending machine. Damn them and their pop tarts. And if I'm alone, all is well, because I feel like I have eaten more just simply because I have taken so long to eat.

2. Time to prepare

It's so easy to throw together a bunch of vegetables into a tupperware and haul it off to class. I don't need to cook anything the night before or heat anything up in the microwave later. It's just like BA-BAM! SALAD!

3. Spinach!!

Spinach is BALLIN'! I can affix it to the end of my fork in front of me and extend my neck out to tear apart those leaves as if I were a prehistoric dinosaur or a giraffe who is reaching daintily up to a tall tree to enjoy a nice, leafy meal. And then I can look on the inside of the leaf and its just about the greenest thing I've ever seen. All that chlorophyll! Then I feel good and science-y for remembering the word cholorphyll from biology class and maybe hazily recalling a few diagrams of leaves. Look at me, all intellectual eating my salad. Then I go back to eating it because I am one hungry dinosaur. RAWR!

4. Cherry tomatoes

And the way their juices pop in your mouth with an explosion of flavor! They are nature's gushers. 'Nuff said.

5. Carrot sticks

One day when I am in the apocalypse fighting zombies I will be thankful for the several pounds of carrots I ate every week because I can outwit the zombies with my night-vision skills. Besides, that orange tint it will give to my skin might make me look a little less pale.

See? I bet even you want a salad now. With that argument, no one can resist. You completely forget about the way the bread of a sandwich accumulates in your mouth and rolls down your throat so thick and heavily like you are drowning in carboy goodness....oh damn. I totally just ruined that salad magic.

Don't forget! Just remember!!

Longer meals! Quicker preparation! Dinosaurs! Nature gushers! Night vision!

That being said, I'll never order a salad when I go out to eat. Seriously, I'm out of the house. This never happens. You think I am going to ruin all the excitement and order a salad? Hell no! I'm getting the most exciting thing on the menu. (This typically involves something with a lot of cheese for me).

Besides, I will always know that at home, a salad is faithfully waiting for me if I so desire. One that costs about 1/5th the price of the one at this silly restaurant. And if I'm anything, it's cheap!

The Amateur Amateur Runners Creed

Here is a little something I like to recite in my head while I go running:

I...

WILL NOT be ashamed of my cotton shorts and hand-me-down running shoes.

WILL NOT make eye contact with those runners in spandex and $300 running shoes.

WILL NOT be ashamed of my red face, which will always be likened to that of a fire truck by the end of my run.

WILL NOT be ashamed of the ocean that is now submerging my entire body.

WILL NOT press the down button on speed on the treadmill.

WILL NOT even look at the display on the treadmill!

WILL NOT think about how fat my calves look in the mirror across from the treadmill. The mirror is wrong I tell you, wrong!!

WILL NOT be deterred by even the steepest of hills.

WILL NOT be afraid of mountain lions or rapists on the trails.

WILL NOT forget/be too lazy to stretch before and after my run.

WILL NOT let myself think that the people passing by in cars think I'm stupid or silly.

WILL NOT make this about weight or becoming more beautiful.

WILL NOT let myself make a rhythm-song out of my footfalls, because it eventually makes me crazy.

WILL NOT count things as I run, because that also makes me crazy.

WILL NOT stop running... unless my lungs might burst or I feel like I am going to pee my pants.

I...

WILL focus on my breathing.

WILL look where I am going so that I don't trip and make a fool out of myself.

WILL drink lots of water before and after.

WILL explore new places.

WILL enjoy nature and sunshine.

WILL smile and nod at people curtly if I do accidentally make eye contact.

WILL also train by doing muscle strengthening exercises later.

WILL be as fast as I was in high school. One day.

WILL feel superior to anyone not running. Like all the stupid people in their loud cars.

WILL make this about becoming a stronger, healthier person.

WILL feel good at the end of this whole mess. Trust me.

WILL keep running. To the end of the block at least. Or maybe that electric box way down there, if I can make it...If not the end of the block then.

WILL be a super badass fit lady!

addendums made be made at a later time when I think of other totally inspiring thoughts as I run.

90 Days to Become a Badass

Today is January 21st, which marks the official 3 month countdown to the USMC Mud Run in Columbia, South Carolina. I've got 90 days to become a badass super fit lady.

Considering how I huff and puff up hills like that little engine that could(n't), I literally have miles to go before I sleep. Yes, I am putting myself through a pretty darn intense training schedule. Seriously guys, professional athletes would probably tremble in anxiety if they saw the two miles I make myself run/walk every day. It's really difficult, and definitely not for everyone.

But Meri, you ask, how could you possibly rise to this challenge. And better yet, why??

Is it because I want to shed pounds and become a super hot sexy fox?

NOPE!

Because I already am a super hot sexy fox. Don't see it? Go put on a pair of beer goggles... There you go. Now you can definitely see it.

No, I am not training to lose weight. This year is 2012. If you haven't already heard, the world is supposed to end this year. And if I am going to find myself smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse, most likely with zombies, I want to kick as many butts and take as many names as I can. And if I die, I'll die a hero. Not as some nerdy white girl. Which is why participation -and success- in this mud run is an absolutely crucial element to my future memory.

Yep, one day the survivors of this world will make a statue in honor of me. I'll be in all the post-apocalypse history textbooks.

And IF I do become even sexier and hotter (if that is even possible!) in the process, well, that's just an added bonus. That means a post-apocalypse equivalent to Angelina Jolie can play me in the movie they will inevitably make out of my life. Once they are done rebuilding civilization, of course.

The point is, I like feeling strong. Exercising makes me feel good.... Good and superior to all the lazy couch potatoes out there. That's the true joy in this thing. That is what it is all about.

So join me as I record the experiences of transforming to nerdy white girl art student into super badass fit lady, starting with my mud run extravaganza. Along the way we will encounter many a mysterious and interesting things that happen in a SoCal art school world, my ascension above men and romance included...because let's face it...like THAT is ever going to happen here. Also super badass fit ladies DO NOT care about that sort of thing. All they are concerned with is kicking butts and taking names.

Welcome, my friends, to my sexless and cynical life.

(title courtesy of my mom...thanks mom, for the insight)