2003-05-12 - 9:18 a.m.
I like diaries. I've kept a real diary since I was 11 or so, almost all of the time. I only offered to read it to someone once, and then i had to edit so many of the things i said, it was hardly worth it. Not even because it revealed so much or would have hurt their feelings, but because it was kind of boring and banal, sentences like, "I like cereal lately. it's just so good." which feel true and real expressions of your life at the time but are nothing too riveting or intelligent upon repetition. Oh one time, I read a dirty diary entry I had written about my ex-boyfriend to him. It was my only experience with writing porn-type stuff, and it described this really illicit time when we had fast and hot sex after watching a Richard Pryor video together. Richard Pryor had nothing to do with it though. He, the boy i had sex with, had another girlfriend, who he had actually left me for and cheated on me with, and I was going to try out to be a stripper the next day. I was dressed kind of slutty. When I think back on that time, which was a certain time period in my third year of college, i feel kind of sad. I never really did self-destructive things so much, except then. I did too many drugs and drank too much, I slept with my stupid ex-boyfriend all the time, (we'd been broken up for a whole year, and he had that serious girlfriend who i despised. i was really hating the wrong person. And I still do hate her.), I had a one-night hookup with a townie, I would kiss lots of people at parties, I got my belly button pierced, and worst of all, I tried being a stripper. All of these things are so laughably out of character, I am kind of proud but shocked at the same time.
Being a "stripper" for 2 days was just a bad idea. I can't even laugh about it now, I just feel quietly awed by the experience. It was in a dirty movie store where you went into another room with some horny ugly guy and you took off all your clothes but your (pink satin) underwear and they tipped you and were allowed to masturbate in front of you! God, how fucking disgusting! One of my good friends was doing it, so it didn't seem so strange, and it was a good way to make lots of money, and you only had to be mostly naked in front of one person (who, alright, had his big old penis out and was disturbingly talking to you about something innocuous, like your hobbies), but it was so not worth it. Those 3 penises i saw were each different and one was horrifying. One guy kind of threatened me and was old and scary. One guy was young and cute, a baseball player, but he wanted me to look at his penis and I was scandalized. It was huge and shiny. I feel like I was a hooker, but no one ever touched me, and I never was fully naked. I guess I was experimenting with being a sexual object, exploiting it. I had just recently become one, and I thought it was a trip. But the sick part is that I certainly, secretly, wanted attention, from my ex-boyfriend, from boys on campus who all found out, and reacted alternately with excitement and barely concealed lust or revulsion and protectiveness. I quit after the second day when the old man tried to touch me and was mean to me for not being a hooker. I was crying out for help and to be noticed just like all other girls who go through a weirdly sexual phase. What a cliche! But it worked, everyone was like, "what the fuck is up with you?" Old people I had dated, my male friends, all of them noticed me, but for the most part, they were disturbed. I've always had the reputation of an innocent. It's sad though, I was so lonely at the time.
