6 June 2003

Until last Friday (30 May) I'd only ever been to a strip-club once before.

Wow! How's that for a beginning to a diary entry?? And that's not even a lot of this entry. Just a neat little teaser to begin, that's all...

But, okay, I know I need to write about it now. Basically, nothing interesting happened. I was at a regular club with a few of my girlfriends and "Chrissy" mentioned that her boyfriend was at a bachelor's party with his friends, and that they were going to a local strip-club afterwards. Well, we were all pretty drunk, and I don't know which of us came up with the idea, but we decided to crash their little shin-dig. So we did. We went to the strip-club.

It was actually pretty cool, since I mentally kept notes (as best I could!) for TTT chapter seven... unfortunately, this club was a bit too "high-class" for the strip-bar that shows up in the next chapter of Trailer Trash Teen, but it was still a good experience from a writer's point of view...!

Anyway, yeah. Chrissy's boyfriend wasn't mad at all that we showed up. Him and his buddies were pretty hammered and we just all had a good time. Nothing sexual happened (except for the naked women dancing on stage and the lap-dances... yes, I agreed to one, but it was more funny than arousing!) and basically it was like any other time out at a bar with my friends. But I got sick (too much drink) early and took a cab home before the bar even closed. Shrugs.

Moving on. Mr. James. Well, I finished my training at the store a while ago, and officially became a manager... it's been really good! I love the authority... it's like, customers say "I want to speak to a manager!" and I can say, "I am a manager!". It's great. But Mr. James and I have been really awkward, not that that's a bad thing... I don't mind him being weird around me. I prefer it, now!

Wait, I just looked back on that last entry... I should mention one thing. That wasn't the last time he and I had sex. We ended up doing it twice (believe me, there won't be a third). Why did I do it the second time? Well, I had a revelation. As much as I pretended not to before, I really did want to do it! I mean, not during the actual sex so much, but I definitely set the stage for that to happen. You know? And I realized that I sort of always set myself up for things like that a lot! Like, okay... I know I'll enjoy it, so I set myself up... but then I'm ashamed, so I pretend not to like it. That's not healthy! It's like, if I really want to do something, I should do it. Have no doubts! Especially if I know I'll just end up doing it anyway, no matter how much I "pretend" not to want to... does that makes sense?

Okay, it's like this: imagine you really want to have a cigarette. And you know, you know 100%, that you will have that cigarette. And not only that, but that you'll enjoy that cigarette! What do you do? You know you're going to smoke it... why not just admit that you'll enjoy it? Why pretend to everyone, even yourself, that you'll hate it, or did hate it? Why be miserable when it's inevitable?

So okay, that's what I realized. So about a week after that first time of having sex, after this revelation, I decided I wanted to fuck him again... only this time, enjoy myself! And, yes, I'd had a couple drinks that night (though I wasn't totally drunk). It was about 1am, I was alone in my room, and decided "FUCK IT!". So I looked up Mr. James' # on the "management directory list" I'd gotten waaaay back when I'd started working, and called him.

He answered (although to my utter embarrassment, I actually called him three times before he did). YES it was embarrassing... AND, even worse, I had to actually CONVINCE him to come over. Plus I lied (so no, I didn't have the guts to tell him the real reason I wanted him over) and told him I just needed his help studying for a management test I had to take the next day (a huge, huge stretch of the truth...). But he came over, and when he did, I told him to be really quiet (I met him outside) and led him to my room.

Once there, though, I was really in control. And I made no pretense about why I had him there... I made sure he stayed quiet as I undressed in front of him (okay, I was a little drunk... that was pretty bold, even for me!). But he didn't argue at all. And once I was naked, we fell into my bed, kissing and groping each other like a couple of high schoolers.

I fucked him from on top, too, which is my favorite position (well... next to doggy-style, I guess). And I was so horny, so geeked at my recent revelation, so pumped over how bold I'd been to get him over like this... that I actually had a really awesome orgasm within minutes! By the time we were done, both of us were sweaty all over and I just kind of collapsed into him.

By the way, yes, he wore a condom. I was going to skip that part, but unlike the TTT stories I write, this is real life... and in real life, I'm deathly afraid of things like AIDS and unwanted pregnancies..!

So, yeah. We fucked pretty hard. I mean... wow. I hadn't fucked a guy like that in a long time. He didn't do much, but didn't need to... I had enough energy and enthusiasm for us both! Even after I came, I was still totally into it... I enjoyed being on top, being in control, swatting away his hands which tried to play with my tits... it was really good!

When it was over, though, and I was lying next to him on my bed, I whispered, "That's the last time, though." He responded by saying like, "That's okay, I thought last time was the last time."

His answer seemed arrogant to me for some reason. So I got out of the bed, went to the bathroom, came back and said (all bitchy), "You're still here?"

THAT was really cool!!! He actually appeared totally fucking embarrassed... he got up, pulled and zipped up his pants (he was still clothed mostly), and said he had to go. After he left, I went online and masturbated to a great porno video I downloaded from a paysite someone gave me an ID/PW to. Then I went to sleep.

But all that happened back in May... about a week or two after the last entry, actually. So yeah, it's been a while since I got laid. I've kept true to my word-- I haven't slept with/flirted with/etc with Mr. James since. And now, whenever he tries to cop an attitude with me, I go off on him. AND I demand to make my own schedule, which he allows. Now that I'm an assistant manager, I have more lee-way anyhow, but also, I feel I have the upper hand... it's like, "Yeah, you fucked me, but I fucked you, too!" I dunno. All I know is that for the first time since I started working there, I don't reject his sexual advances from fear anymore... I do it with a sense of power. It's really cool.

Not that I've seen him much lately. Since I got officially promoted, we work during different shifts for the most part.

Anyway. Yeah, Mr. James is old news, now. He fucked me, I fucked him... and now he can't treat me the way he treats the rest of the attractive girls at work! So it worked out. AND I enjoyed myself, in the end. Yay!

What else, what else? Well, I suppose I should write here about my "nervous breakdown" the other night. Sigh. Okay. It goes like this.

On Tuesday night, for reasons TOTALLY unrelated to Mr. James or work, I kind flipped out. I fell into this whole deep depression thing while chatting online with a few people, including one who I was having cyber sex with. I think it was the alcohol. I was drunk. But I just sort of... snapped! One moment I was fine, the next I was figuring that drinking down a bottle of my sleeping pills would be a good idea.

So I did. And I did the corny, "Goodbye cruel world" thing to one of the guys I was chatting with... my webmaster, Spencer. Sigh. That was dumb. I can't believe I was so stupid. It's embarrassing. I haven't spoken with him since then.

But anyway, after logging off for the night, I was sitting on my bed, sliding a razor across my arm (not really cutting, but I have a scratch now) when it of came to me... I didn't want to die! Of course I didn't want to die! Thankfully, as panicked as I was suddenly (realizing that I'd taken a bunch of sleeping pills... I'm SO stupid), I was smart enough to get to my bathroom and gag myself. And I threw up, mostly beer, but also undisolved pills (I think). And once I'd finished doing that, I decided it was okay to sleep (although, in retrospect, I should have gotten to a hospital just to be on the safe side). Anyway, I awoke the next day feeling like shit but alive... whoo-hoo!

And I had a therapy appointment that day (Wednesday) I almost didn't go to... but realized, shit, I really had to. I started the session by lying, but then admitted all (not about my website... she doesn't know about that... but about my "attempt" at suicide). Okay, not all, at all! I didn't mention the pills. I just mentioned the scar on my arm, how I'd had a razor to it. Sigh.

So she got me in to see the psychiatrist that very day (I had to call in to work to make that appointment) and the doctor changed my meds around. She also told me that if I didn't start going to AA meetings, she would stop prescribing me meds altogether. Shoooot... argh. Anyway, no, I won't be going to any AA meetings. My friend Laura said she'd sign this sheet the doctor gave me to "prove" I'd been going.

I'm okay now, I am. I flipped out earlier this week, is all. But see, flipping out is okay from time to time. I'm certainly not going to kill myself! Things are better for me now than they ever have been. Why would I kill myself? Even the other night, as depressed as I was, I realized that much! The change in meds is good enough. And I will cut back on drinking, too... I have already!

Okay, enough of that boring, depressing shit. Life is awesome! This summer is going to be great. BTW, I did quit the volleyball team (I think... I just stopped going, really). Nothing but work and fun all summer long...

Later!