I'm the worst person when it comes to listening to and following advice. I hear what you're saying. My way just seems so much better.
While I'd agree for those of you that watch Girls, Hannah is a self-absorbed twat, I think she's my kindred spirit. Almost every time I watch that show I cringe and ask my boyfriend Hercules, "What the fuuuuuck is she doing!?!" But then when I listen to her explain herself, I totally fucking get it. When she talks about letting people sexually demean her, just for the experience, I get that. I mean if we all want to take an honest look at ourselves we can probably think of at least one encounter where we did something or considered doing something bordering on sexual deviance, just to see what it would be like. In case your prudish side just came out, something I haven't seen since sometime in the late 90s, I'll share. Only because you're pretty though.
When I was 22 I met Chris. He was a tall, skinny, vegan with huge plugs, weird piercings and I was immediately obsessed with him. He was every thing my mother warned me against. He was 32, lived with his parents, unemployed, and gave zero fucks about anyone but himself. Hi, my name is Hannah Horvath and this is Adam. I was completely in love and he was amused by me. After a few months of our fucked up humpfest, he broached the topic of things we were into but didn't know how to bring up. I immediately assumed this would be the "let me put it in your butt" conversation. I found myself scooting back until my asshole was firmly protected by the headboard and cleared my throat to scream rape if necessary and hope his Mom hadn't taken her meds yet. Instead he asked if I would pee on him. Uhhh...how's that? I was completely surprised. As he explained himself I realized that I was actually entertaining the thought. Like trying to plan out the logistics of it in my head. Then I realized that I was on the verge of agreeing to pee on someone so they could live out their reverse R. Kelly fantasy. Who does that!? Ultimately I decided to forego the golden showers. As a compromise I just let him put it in my butt. Ha. I kid.
When I told my gay BFF about Chris he immediately hissed and gave me the mom eyebrow. And I have to say that every guy since then has elicited the same response from him and my other bestests. But still, I shrug my shoulders, make a noncommittal noise and proceed without caution. I'm not saying I don't see the shitshow coming my way. I definitely see it. I could play out the whole Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain tragedy word for word. But for some reason I can't walk away from it. I have to let it play out. Even if it's going to lead to Whitney Houston baths and Miley Cyrus twerk and cut Friday nights.I'd rather lose big time and have the story then never experience anything and have the most boring match.com profile ever.
I also think my need to ride the train wreck train comes from the fact that past pounds don't excite me. I've had a few past anatomy study buddies say they masturbate while thinking about someone they've already had sex with. I mean obviously they mean me. And you're welcome. But I can honestly say that I don't think about anyone I've already boned when I have a romantic evening with myself. I do wonder what Chris is up to sometimes when I'm peeing. Probably prison is my best guess. And sometimes when I'm aborting a burrito I laugh about my ex who shit the bathroom floor. There's nothing sexy about any of that. My theory is why would I fantasize about something I've done? Sorry I'm not boring. Now that I think about it, maybe I should've just peed on him.
In my older, almost old age, I'm trying to brake at the yellow lights more often. If a guy starts singing "Trapped in the Closet" softly in my ear I'm going to walk away. However I make no guarantees that if a guy on a motorcycle with a face tattoo offers to give me a ride home from a shady dive bar I won't get on that bike. Because I will. Fuck yes I will.