August 2007

rabbit hole: an absurd and improbable world inhabited by many strange characters

I started this blog with this post in mind: to expose myself to the point that my past actions no longer have power over me. It has taken me almost 2 months to build up to this.

The day I received the letter from my agent rejecting my manuscript, I took action. I needed to get drunk and fuck – there’s nothing like a little, or a lot, of alcohol and sex to make a person forget his or her troubles. So I called Dexter, D,up. It was a Thursday, and it was a week after I attempted to set him up with my best friend which I subsequently sabotaged.

Whenever I’ve decided to have sex, I’ve had sex. And I like sex a lot. But because of this, I am meticulous and methodical in choosing my partners (I will never sleep with a guy who verbally states he is great in bed. Like class, if you have to say you have it, you automatically do not). Bad sex is not better than no sex. Bad sex is bad sex, and I’ve discovered certain indicators of how a man will perform in bed. As an athlete and one who is friends with several talented athletes, I understand the refusal to play beneath a certain level of skill. It’s simply not fun and it actually brings down one’s own game and enjoyment of the sport.

“Meet me at the Grill at 9.”

“I have a softball game in the city. I won’t be able to make it until 1030.”

“I’ll be gone by then. You really don’t want to miss me.”

“I should be able to get there before 10.”

Dexter showed up around 945. I was annoyed that I had to wait but I was determined. For all our months of flirting, for every moment we had shared intimate details about each other, all I cared about was having sex. I was already drunk by the time he arrived. And I was sitting on a stool when he walked up. We made smalltalk for a few minutes until I revealed a pivotal piece of information.

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I was wearing a skirt. I wasn’t messing around; I had my agenda. He dipped his head down so he could get a glance. For a minute he was dead silent. For a moment I thought I had completely turned him off with my bawdiness. Silly me. He asked if I wanted another drink. I said yes, so we went to the bar and while we were waiting, he asked if he could kiss me. I said okay. Ten minutes later, we had finished our drinks. He asked if I wanted to leave.

“Yes. But we need to go to your place.”

Why? Because my ex-boyfriend, with whom I had broken up with a week earlier, was still living in my apartment.

The details of the night aren’t important. What is important is the next morning, he called me a cab and escorted me into it, slipping the driver a $20 and telling me he’d call me a few hours from the airport, which he did. I remember this part clearly, because this is what a man who knows how to take care of a woman and knows how to take charge does. The day before, his divorce had been finalized and he was flying back west to pack up his house and move everything into storage.

That weekend my ex made a last ditch effort to get me back. He had booked a hotel room in the city and made dinner reservations and was so emphatic about the whole thing, calling it “our goodbye” that I agreed. But I had already moved on and I was just going through the motions of even caring.

When Dexter returned on Monday, “we” began. We had our first date, which lasted for hours and for the life of me, I cannot remember what we talked about but we talked for hours. We spent every evening of the week together. A week later, I told him I thought I wanted to marry him – the girl who got panic attacks at bridal showers and looked forward to weddings solely for the open bar. He said he felt the same. He gave me the keys to his apartment.

Everything moved very quickly and we both dove head first into the relationship. Looking back, my relationship with Dexter was a formula for disaster. I hated my job at the time, I was dealing with the setback of rejection from my book, and I hadn’t mourned the loss of my previous relationship with S, who was one of my best friends for 5 years. It probably didn’t help that Dexter was coming out of a very difficult period time in his life, but I cannot make any assumptions on his behalf.

To be continued…


hindsight: perception of the significance and nature of events after they have occurred

There is only one way I can write this post: as a third party, condemning the acts of me, the accused, without providing an opportunity for defense.

Exhibit #1: The first night I met D, I felt an unmistakable attraction for him* and I acted on it by flirting with him, even though I was in a monogamous, committed relationship with S. More importantly, D was thoroughly drunk and obnoxious.

Alcohol has always presented a challenge for my father, who vacillates from drinking in excess to not drinking at all. He is also known for making the most obnoxious of comments and this aspect of his personality has been the source of reoccurring embarrassment for my family.

*Note: There is a school of thought called schema therapy that says in a relationship, one person’s schema can trigger another person’s schema and escalate repressed childhood issues. Schema therapists assert that head-over-heals romantic attraction is often a sign of bad schema chemistry because we essentially associate the new partner with the parent or adult figure that caused us childhood discomfort. More on this later.

Exhibit #2: For months, I continued the flirtation, while still in my other relationship. This included some provocative instant messaging as well as coffee and lunch outings.

Cheating does not necessitate physical sexual action. This is one of those silly little loopholes people exploit all the time. I should have ended things with S by this point.

Exhibit #3: S read an email I sent to one of my ex’s revealing my feelings that I didn’t believe S was an intellectual equal.

I was sending an ex (fuck buddy) an email explaining why me and S weren’t right???

S was a late-acting rebound to J and Dr. T, who both did superb jobs mind-fucking me. After J, I was afraid of subjecting myself to an intellectually provocative male. I knew S provided a very non-threatening relationship which I essentially controlled.

Exhibit #4 : D revealed during one of our common “the question game” chats that his greatest fear was not having children and I responded by setting D up with one of my best friend’s Liz, who had a similar fear.

I hate this one. At this time in my life, children instilled a state of panic in me. I had no idea if I ever wanted children. Why did I set D up with Liz? I’m still working on my motivation for this move. Maybe I was simply committing a nice act. Or maybe this was my way sabatoging a relationship with D? Or was I testing his interest in me?

Exhibit #5 : Upon introducing D to Liz, he expressed an interest in her and I proceeded to feed him with reasons why the two of them wouldn’t work out.

Friends don’t sabotage friends. I have always had a competitive relationship with Liz, ever since Peter, who we met at the same time. I told Liz that if she didn’t make a move for him, I would. So she did. No big deal. I wasn’t interested in him besides sex. They started dating and still no big deal BUT at the Halloween party, when Liz made the comment about the length of my “naughty schoolgirl” skirt, something to the effect of my skirt was a little “slutty” and maybe that was the reason why she was in a relationship with Peter and I wasn’t, she left a scar.

Never diss a girlfriend with the sheer intent of getting in a dig. Maybe D was payback for that comment. I gave her Peter. I wasn’t giving her D.


  1. feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger. A state or condition marked by this feeling
  2. a feeling of disquiet or apprehension: a fear of looking foolish
  3. extreme reverence or awe, as toward a supreme power
  4. a reason for dread or apprehension

Ask me what I am afraid of and I will say…love. Or commitment. What is my greatest fear? Falling in love? Committing to a lifetime of anything? Is love the ultimate commitment? It is the ultimate sacrifice – to place the needs and interests of another human being above your own, the true essence of love.

Where does this fear of love and commitment come from? I can break down the components, analyze them, and reconstruct the Gestault picture of my fear. My mother threatening to leave my father too many times, her warranted need for self-sufficiency and independence, and my failure to ever live up to her expectations. My father’s utter adoration and unconditional love which has served as the benchmark against which I measure most men. The number of times I have been pursued and deceived by men in relationships.

I accept full responsibility for my choices in life. We all enter this world with damage. Our parents’ damages are passed down to us, and their parents’ damages are passed on to them. It is an infinite fractured existence.

My greatest fear is my greatest desire. I seek out love and instantly run away from the possibility only to take comfort in relationships that do not pose a true threat.

I have made a commitment to take on any act that challenges me enough to evoke fear. I am starting to be challenged, if only by a glimmer of the possibility of love. Am I ready to face my fear? Will I have to divorce everything I know of myself to do this? Or is the joke on me? Is everything I fear simply an illusion?

confession: written or verbal acknowledgment, especially in a matter pertaining to one’s self; the admission of a debt, obligation, crime, or suckiness

warmup: a session usually a short time before a performance in which the actors prepare their bodies through a number of physical, mental, and musical exercises

Over the years I become very well acquainted with my “areas for improvement.” The problem with confessing your sins in a blog versus a diary (that’s meant for your eyes only) is that subconsciously we post to blogs with the audience in mind. Translation: a diary is more honest. The upside to blogs is that if we write as truthfully as possible, we’re exposing ourselves to a point that we might actually come to terms with any deep, dark secrets – put it out there and get over it. This is why I created this blog.

So here is my warm up confession, Chunk-style:

  • In kindergarten, I stole my boyfriend Noah’s favorite toy from his cubby hole.
  • In second grade, my guy cousin and I looked at a stack of Playboy magazines we found in our grandparents basement. Days later I tried to convince my 2 best friends to play “nude model shoot” after which they never came back to my house and their mother no longer associated with mine. I never told my mother about this.
  • In ninth grade, I didn’t want to talk to my best friend on the phone one night because all she wanted to talk about, night after night, was this guy she had a crush on, so I covered the receiver and told my dad to tell me to get off the phone but she heard me. I never apologized and after that, we were no longer friends.
  • Right before I returned to school my sophomore year of college, I bought a fake diamond ring and when I got to campus, I told everyone that a guy I met at the beach over the summer proposed to me. This was my attempt to make the guy with whom I had had a semester long flirtation and a month of heavy “romance” freshmen year jealous. We were making out in his dorm room freshmen year when he received a call. It turned out he had a girlfriend back home but they had “agreed to see other people.” I was devastated.
  • Senior year, my roommate (who had bad acne) and I had a big falling out so one day when she wasn’t home I mixed Crisco in with her Clearasil. A month later she went on Tetracycline.
  • Several years ago, I was driving home from work late one night and was fucking with the radio when I swerved into the next lane of traffic and caused another car to spin out of control to avoid me. I kept on driving.
  • Finally, I attempted to set-up my best friend with this guy I knew from work but when he told me he liked my friend, I decided I wanted him for myself and I fed him all these reasons why the two of them weren’t compatible.

From these confessions, I’ve learned that I am:

  • Selfish
  • Highly sexual
  • Prideful and stubborn
  • Vengeful and vindictive
  • Cowardly
  • Jealous and deceitful

I’ve gotten much better with all of these, especially in the past year, but I’ve still got my work cut out, in some areas more than others.