Whore Stories

July 29, 2013 at 1:10 pm (Uncategorized)

I’ve never lived on my own before. The whole experience of being a completely autonomous human being in control of their own destiny is foreign to me. Getting out from beneath my family has been a strange and revealing process. It feels cliche to say that I’m learning about myself and finding out who I really am, but I couldn’t be more sincere about the thought. 

I have learned the following things about myself in the first month of living on my own:

I love cooking.

Yard care is important.

I am not a free spirit.

 

Maybe free spirit isn’t the right word, but it has been tossed around more in the last few weeks than ever before. My friend told me last night that in my house, I am not the free spirited one. Me, the girl who wanders south city in a bear suit while yelling at strangers to suck my dick with a full face of makeup on and a drunken saunter. Apparently wearing said bear suit to weird south city orgies disqualifies me from being the most free spirited roommate in this house, just so you have some perspective here.

I have officially become the cranky mother of the house. I’m not judging the morals of these women, I am judging the safety of their choices. Want to have sex with weird dudes? Go crazy, you’re only young once. What I don’t agree with is having said strangers in my house eyeballing my things and trying too hard to be nice. I am terrified of you strange guy, please quit commenting on my gundam memorabilia; you make me uncomfortable.

Maybe it’s not even the strange dudes, maybe it’s the caliber of such dudes. Guy, I know you’re only here to bang my friend. We all know that’s why you’re here. Quit trying to make some sort of peace offering with your curly fries and half assed conversation about The Walking Dead. Oh, you didn’t know it was based off of a comic book? You are out of your depth here mr. frat-tanktop.

I don’t care who fucks who, the thing I find intolerable is the utter lack of style. Being cool I think can be boiled down to not what you know, but how you act. After years of field research, all you gotta do is calm the fuck down. Don’t talk too much out of your ass, don’t pretend to be something you’re not, quit caring what other people think. There’s something very zen about the aura of cool. Do your own thing man. I don’t care if we have the same taste in music, just be yourself. People can sense desperation and fear, that’s why James Dean was a cool motherfucker.

Maybe I’m just not dumb enough to be a free spirit. Perhaps being designated as such a thing just really means you have no critical thinking skills or self-preservational ability. Does being free spirited mean you’re impulsive and prone to delusion? Are freespirits aware of the long con of the douche-bro types and just play along for their own gains? Or are they just that naive and malleable?

In the end, this point in my life I guess I have to figure out if i’m ready to grow out of it yet. How long can a girl parade around regurgitating trivia and shaking her tits in people’s faces?     

I think my friend Emily put it best when she said, “Steenie? Yeah, she hates everyone equally.”

Free spirit my ass.

 

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