strangelove addiction

It’s odd that it took this long, but I realized tonight that I can’t possibly compete with every single female in this world. Not that I ever literally thought “I am in competition with every single female in this world” and not that I even know what we’re competing for, against, or why. But somewhere in my head, there’s always been this thought, this unexpressed, unthought, thought…that it’s me vs every other vagina.

but it’s not. in some ways it is, sure, because either your vagina or my vagina is going to win, but not both. only, really, no vaginas win. only the vags that are actually penises. and I don’t like your vagina anyway.

still, it’s nice. it feels good to relieve myself of that incredible stress. now maybe I can get on with my life and let everyone’s vagina do what it will. worry instead about what mine is up to. she’s a dirty minx. and such a liar.

10 thoughts on “strangelove addiction

  1. Jonathan

    Elaborate – what kind of a sense of competition did you feel? Like the kind where you had to be the most attractive/charming/compelling option for a guy? Or the kind where you had to just “win” at life? Cause I feel that 2nd kind all the time, it compels me to work way harder than I normally would want to, and frequently causes me to miss out on the fun that life is. But at a genital level, I’m also aware that every attractive woman I’m not having sex with (which is 100% of them, excluding my wife) is an attractive woman that some other dude is having sex with. And that level of awareness can border on competition, albeit competition that I don’t pursue.

  2. christa Post author

    I don’t know what kind of competition…at first glance, it feels like it’s about being the most attractive/charming/compelling option for a guy, but then after closer examination, that’s not it at all. it’s competition more like…there is so many of us, and we all have our thing, but who’s vagina is going to get the wettest, the sweetest, the warmest, the tightest, the most orgasmic. literally, and not. I mean, there are so many damn women. so freaking many, and we all have our “thing” and no one is going to win, because there is no finish line. she’s prettier, but so is she, and so is she, and her, too. and she’s smarter, but not as smart as her, and she’s got way more money and that girl over there has the craziest collection of pez dispensers you’ve ever seen, and this girl isn’t really blond, but she bleaches her hair and her eyebrows and anything else that might give her away, and this one here has the funniest personality, and over there? well she’s the hippy, and this one is the all-around nice girl who everyone wants to sully.

    see what I mean? guys have it easy. they’re just guys, they have their penises and their grunts and their “we love boobies!” and someone will eventually say okay to them and they don’t care. but us girls…well, we have to fight and claw our way to the surface, and then we realize…there really was nothing to surface for.

    but actually, I think it all comes down to sex. there are millions of other girls that guys will have sex with before me, and I don’t like that. I want them to have sex with me first, and then move on to the rest of the pack. but nothing I do will change that, it doesn’t matter who I am or what I look like or where I work or what clothes I wear or what I write or how I think. It does not matter.

    I have nothing special or great to offer, never have, never will, but I will tell you this much….I can be extremely filthy if need be, and I’m neither proud nor ashamed of this fact, only that it achieves a certain level of appreciation from a certain level of man that I’m attracted to.

    I end a lot of sentences in prepositions. sue me.

    and I think all of this comes from the fact that I “met” a girl tonight that I went to school with, and she’s the girlfriend of someone at work, a guy who I happen to have a minor crush on, and she acted like she barely remembered me. When she did remember me, she very clearly did, and we both knew she was being silly about it, and I had to pretend that she wasn’t a moron, and that I didn’t care.

    But I did care, I cared very much. she even said “oh it was so long ago” as if it happened several thousand years ago, in the freaking ice age or something, and not just three little years ago. as if anything interesting or monumental happened to her! It didn’t! nothing happened to her. she went to school, she finished school, she got a job, she dated boys, she had sex with them, she dates the guy at work, the end. that’s her fucking story and it is BORING AS HELL.

    and she can’t remember me? please.

    She was one of those girls that you could have dated for three years, but when you ran into each other in the grocery store one day, she would act like you were the friend of the guy she sat next to in chemistry class, the dorky guy who was lonenly and would score you beer on friday nights. when in fact you were the guy she was screwing every single night and you knew that she liked to stick her finger up your ass while giving head. it’s easier for her little self to pretend she didn’t know you.

    this is the girl I had to deal with tonight and it annoyed me that the boy I sort of think is cool and cute is dating her.

    I didn’t have to “deal with her.” I talked to her before I left, and she was nice and sweet and it was all fine. but I wanted to trip her and tell her she had a fat ass and she shouldn’t be wearing those shorts.

    so, I know I’m not in competition with her, because I have gordon, and the boy at work has her, and it’s all fine. Because I don’t want him, not really, and I’m not interested in making something happen. but the fact that he thinks SHE’S worth having is greatly aggravating. It all comes back to me. me me me. it’s about christa and it’s about me making the wrong call. I thought he was worthy of my crushness, and he isn’t.

    So there. that’s why I feel like it’s a competition. with myself more than anyone.

  3. Jonathan

    You’ve really distilled the sense of it quite nicely. In the end, I wouldn’t mind never having sex with another woman for as long as I live (besides Robin) provided they all WANTED to have sex with me, but couldn’t. It’s why I don’t get the “going to prostitutes” aspect of the sex trade. For me, sex isn’t about sex, it’s about the woman who wants me SO badly, etc, etc. And if she’s just being paid to do so, then I’m not sure I could even get it up. I mean, fuck, if you’re that unappealing that you have to pay to have someone pretend to want to fuck you, you might as well stay home & jerk off. I realize, I’m more desperate for validation than most people (“please tell me I’m funny! please tell me I’m interesting!!”), but I think we’re discussing a universal truism. Sex is awesome, sure, and I love having sex, but it’s actually every bit as important that someone WANTS you, that they WANT to have sex with you. In that, you win. And fuck, even if you don’t win on the sex front, but you win on the “funniest” or “most interesting” or even “coolest person that I totally want to hang out with” front, then you win in a way.

  4. Steph

    Christa you are awesome and never forget that. I am sure that girl will never be as awesome as you are. And that is why I love you so much!!!

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