A Little Update for Those that Care

A little update for those of you that have been wondering what I've been up to since the Saga of Three Boyfriends, here's a little recap:

The boyfriend I finally ended up choosing, Bobby, went into the Marines last December. He had three and a half months of training (it would have only been three, but someone kicked him in the face and broke his nose) and now, he's in North Carolina for another month of physical training. I'm proud of him for making it through the initial training to become one of the most elite members of the armed forces.
He broke up with me over the phone.
Of the many things that Marines are taught, emotional tact is not one of them. He broke up with me so that, in the event that he is sent overseas and killed, I won't hear about it and get depressed and angry with the world.
This man obviously doesn't know me.
I don't care about many things in this world. I love my family, my best friend, and my cat. I would lay down my life for the people I care about. Up until the 31st of March, he was one of those people.
People tell me that I have sad eyes. It's because I absorb other peoples' anger and pain and keep it locked up inside. I would rather be the one to hurt, because I can handle it. I am stronger than most people think I am. But this really fucking hurt.
Robert Paul Dooley, you are a coward. Instead of risking me actually lashing out at you physically, you chose to break up with me over the phone. I hope that the four horsemen, Jimmy, Johnny, Jack, and Jose, are the perfect companions. Have a great fucking life.

I mean, why do guys do that? Say they love you every day, every time you talk to them. Behave nicely in front of your friends. Talk respectfully to your parents. And then out of nowhere, "I'm probably going to end up dying in the service, so I'm breaking up with you now so you're not hurt then.".
Then he's off to a strip club.
I'm a nice girl. I've never been in (serious) trouble with the law. I don't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I have a few problems with personal space (so very tactile, am I), but I've never taken it so far that I actually become an annoyance. Is there really something so off about me that a guy can pledge his heart and promise the world one day, then be gone the next? Do I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?
I'm sick of being used. I'm tired of being stared through, treated like I'm not even a real person.
I'm real.
I'M FUCKING REAL.
I'm a human being.
(and God help me, I still love him.)
I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up and I'll still be in South Carolina, or on the road back to Florida. That this shit never happened.
I saw him again before he left.
At the comic store. He was in his dress blues.
He looked at me like I wasn't there. I cried on a bus because of him.
I hate him.
I love him.
(please come back to me, I love you too much to let you go so soon)

That previous monologue was spliced together from the posts I made about this incident in my LJ. Two months later, I'm okay. I have a new boyfriend that I absolutely adore. I may go as far as to say that he's mey One. I mean, it may be too soon to tell right now, but I'm pretty sure.
I can talk comics with him, and (while he doesn't get half the stuff I say, being a hard-core comic geek) he gives some pretty good feedback. He's a writer, working on a comic of his own. He also works in a porn store, which is fabulous. We have some of the best sex I've EVER had EVER.

But goddamnit, I still sort of miss Bobby.
I hear a sad song, I think about how much he hurt me. How hard I cried over him. The state of my nails after I shredded my self-dignity for him. And yet, I still get sort of weepy sometimes over him.
I've been exercising and while I'm no ultra-buff Mary Marine, I'm a damned sight thinner than when last we met. I look better, I feel more confident, and I have a boyfriend that is so much more...everything than Bobby was. I may just see him again at Florida Supercon next week, and I want it to be with no regrets.
I still plan on cockblocking the hell out of him, mainly because that is what a spiteful, vindictive bitch like myself does in these situations.

I AM SO FUCKED

I still have three boyfriends.

And I can't dump any of them.

Bobby loves me, Francisco loves me, and Dayan is seriously attracted to me.

Tonight, I was hanging with Bobby and we...yeah. So I decided that now would be as good a time as any to break up with Francisco, like you said. Only, he didn't take it well. See, his mom had just kicked him out and he'd been having an overall shitty day when I called him, so he decided that since I, the girl he loved, had just "cheated" on him with her actual boyfriend (go figure), he would off himself. Seems that the thought of me had been what kept him from doing it for weeks now. I refuse to be party to suicide. It's not gonna happen.

So, until I move up to South Carolina (because I have had it up to here with my mom and her bullshit), I have three boyfriends. Shit, I need to get all this down into script format and see if I can sell it as a soap opera, because this is drama with a capital DRAMA.

I've fucked up again

I have three boyfriends.

No, seriously. I do.


It all started a few months back at Florida Supercon, when I had a threesome (it was just me making out with two guys, honestly, but they think it was a threesome). I ended up dating one of the guys, Nick, for about a month before I got tired of him and his stupid hat. Mainly because I kinda liked the other guy, Bobby. Bobby and I get to talking over the net and on the phone, and we really go crazy over each other.


About a year back, I signed up for this goth site. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I didn't make any friends, my profile got no hits, and it was just boring. Last month, I get an email from a guy that was on the site, and we start talking. I agree to hang out with him in a neutral place, and start to like him a bit. Not as much as I liked Bobby, but still quite a bit.


This weekend, I went to Anime Supercon and shared a hotel room with 4 other people, Bobby and Nick included. Oddly, it wasn't that awkward. Over the months, we'd been really working each other up, but I knew that my period was coming soon, so I decided to rig up a little test, just to see how serious Bobby was about me. Those of you who lack vaginas may not realize this, but vags get sore when you're about to get your period. Bobby did not know this. So I made out like it hurt every time I had sex. He said that it was okay, that he didn't need sex to be in love with me.

A few hours later, he dumped me in the dealers room.


I was pretty much suicidal for five minutes or so, then I went straight into angry. My room key didn't work (fucking Hilton), so I had to go find either Bobby or Nick. They were together. Nick began rapidly backing away, as if expecting me to slug Bobby or something. Instead, I just demanded the room key, and left. Nick followed me, and Derek, another room mate, did too. They cheered me up, made me laugh, and Nick totally farted into Bobby's pillow. Oh, did I mention that I still had to share a bed with Bobby? Because I did. Anyway, they cheered me up, and Derek went back downstairs. Then Nick and I made out. Or was that Saturday? I think that was Saturday. Yeah, it was, because I called Francisco (internet guy) in a fit of anger and told him that I'd chosen him over Bobby. Not like I had a choice, right?


I didn't really hang out a lot downstairs after 10pm, just ended up wandering from floor to floor and room party to room party until 2am. I wound up on the sixth floor (my room was on the fifth), still depressed and talking to a guy dressed up as a giant beer can. He went into a room, and I just sat outside. Then, this guy comes out and starts discussing Numerology with me. Apparently, I'm a 2, and I am awesome. Dayan (that was his name) and I talked about random crap for three hours, before I went back to the room and lay next to Bobby awkwardly. Then Derek barged into the room with a girl who had a heart condition, gave her his bed, and sandwiched in between me and Bobby. We then spent the next half hour or so cracking jokes until heart condition girl left, Derek and I. He's cool like that. And then came sleep.


Saturday, I was up before everyone else, showered, and gone, and no one woke up. Amazing.

I sold a few books, then went and met Dayan down in Artist’s Alley. He, Rey (his friend and table-partner/roommate), and I decided that we were fucking starving, so Dayan and I went to get some Burger King. Perhaps I should have mentioned before that on Saturday, I was dressed up as Zatanna, with the fishnets and leotard and everything. Whilst in Burger King, we ran into Special K. Woo. But enough about the day. Later that night, I got Dayan to come hang out with me in my room with Nick, Celia, Derek, a chick that Nick had been trying to bed named Rachel, and her friend Taylor. Bobby showed up a little while later, and we had a “no shoes” orgy. You know, like the Virginia state law: when more than 5 people are together in a room without shoes, it is considered an orgy. Later, I went up to Dayan’s room to take a shower. Before that, however, Bobby told me that he needed the room key back, as I still had his. For a guy that had dumped me, he sure was worried about me possibly getting it on with another guy. After I showered and changed, Dayan and I met up with everyone else down at the rave. I’d forgotten just how much I hate loud music, so after swiping the room key from Bobby, I left. With Dayan.

I, um, never really made it back to my room. We watched TV for awhile, and then stuff started getting hot as all hell. He asked me if I’d like to stay in his room for the night, so I ran downstairs to shower (yes, again. Period’s suck, and it didn’t help that he’d gotten me all worked up), grab some clothes for the night and next morning, and ran back upstairs. We fooled around a bit more until his roommate came back and was like “Agh, so sleepy.”. And to top it all off, get this: even if I’d been able to at the time, he wouldn’t have had actual sex with me. Didn’t want to rush things. Um, woo? Anyway, we woke up the next morning, I showered for the ninth time that weekend, we fooled around again, then went down to the con. I sold a boatload of my stuff, cockblocked Bobby several times (I am a spiteful bitch sometimes, it’s true. But the girl was highly uncomfortable with his flirtations and was also 16, so, yeah. Cockblocking was totally necessary), sang karaoke, made out with Dayan again, and then Bobby, Celia, and I packed up Bobby’s car and headed home. I was dropped off first, and here’s where the trouble started.

Of the guys that are currently interested in me (as unbelievable as it is, there seem to be at least six as of now. My mind, she is blown), I am most attached to Bobby. I really believed that I was in love with him, because he had been the first guy since A that made me feel...anything. I was so lost after he dumped me, I sort of became a whore to make up for it. I mean, if a guy had been going on and on for months that he was in love with you and then just suddenly dumps you, how would you feel? Anyway, after I got all my stuff in the house (Celia lives up in Boyton, so I was the first dropped off), I took the time to reveal my little lie to Bobby. The look on his face...I thought he might hit me. See, I’m really not a jealous girl. If I really hadn’t been able to do it with him without pain, I’d have been fine with him going off and getting sex somewhere else, just as long as he told me that he’d done it. The main reason I broke up with Special K was because he cheated on me and then lied about it. I really hate being lied to. Back to the present, though. Once I told Bobby about my little test, he got really quiet. And his eyes...they looked so hurt. It made me feel so, so...
He’d said that he’d broken up with me because of our distance, not because of the sex, and once I saw his eyes...he hadn’t been lying.

When two people are fated to be together, it is said that they are connected by a red string that will bring them together despite all odds. Sunday night, out by his car, I pressed the palms of our hands together, searching desperately for that string. Before, I didn’t even have to look for it to know it was there. I’d feel it whenever we brushed against each other, held hands, kissed...I’d felt it the moment I turned around in Tate’s Comics last Thursday and saw him standing there. Sunday night, it was barely there. I said goodbye, smiled at them both, waved them out of the driveway, then ran inside and sobbed against my front door. I sent him a text as I made dinner, saying that I would always care about him. Later, he sent me one back asking if I could ever forgive him, then another saying that he was wrong. That it didn’t matter how far he lived from me as long as we loved each other. He realized that without me, his heart would always feel broken, that breaking up with me had been the biggest mistake of his life. I asked him if that was how he really felt, or if it was one of those “alone in the dark” revelations. He said that it wasn’t. He said that whenever he was alone, or sad, or had had a shitty day at work, all he had to do was call me up and he’d feel happy again. And that now, he’d never felt so empty in his life. I ironically pointed out that that was exactly how I’d felt pretty much all weekend, and he apologized. Repeatedly. Then he said that he loved me and wanted to keep loving me.

And I said okay.

Because, and you can damn me for a fool, I still love him. The thought of being without him hurts too much to even bear. Sage, you know exactly what I’m going through here, don’t deny it. He means more to me than I could ever believe someone could. He hasn’t even left the state yet, and my heart is already missing him. Yesterday, we hung out at my library, Tate’s, Gameworks, and then my library again. When he first met me at the library, I was watching the ducks. He brought out some bread, and we fed them together. I pushed him away when he tried to kiss me, because I hadn’t completely forgiven him yet, hadn’t even begun to. We sat on the hood of his car and compared childhood camping memories. Then his friend called and asked us if we would meet him at Best Buy so we could all go to Tate’s. Before we left the library, I kissed him. The first step in the road to forgiveness. We got to Best Buy, the three of us played Rock Band, and then we went off to Ryan’s house to grab something of his, went to Tate’s, then headed out to Gameworks. We donned Captain’s robes (from Bleach), and went and played some games. It was fun. After we dropped Ryan off at his house, I reached over to touch Bobby’s hand and something just...clicked. We hadn’t touched much throughout the day, mainly because I wouldn’t get close enough, but now that we had...

We drove past my house and went to the library again, where we made out. They say that if you truly love someone, you can name five things you love about them off the top of your head. We both could. But just to make sure, I grabbed his hand again, pressing our palms together. I almost cried. I told him about how last night, whatever spark we’d had, our string, I’d had to really search to find it. But now, it was back. It was more obvious than ever. Then he wrapped his other hand around mine, and I added my other hand to the pile, and we just sat like that for awhile. As we sat there, he leaned down and kissed all five fingers on my left hand and said, “five fingers, five things we love about each other.”, and smiled. My heart melted just a little bit. I really do love him, more than anything, but what am I supposed to do?

Francisco is my friend, but he also believes himself to be my boyfriend. Dayan is, for lack of better word, my lover, but he is also 29. Bobby may or may not be my soulmate, but he is going into the Marines and may get killed. Each one of them has seen me when I’m most vulnerable, when I let my emotional guard down. Each one of them has touched my heart in a different way. And oddly enough, each one of them has this weird idea in their heads that I need to be taken care of, provided for. Two out of the three have spoken about possible future’s together. All of them are much stronger and more skilled in fighting than I am and have shown the desire to protect me. Then logic should dictate from what I know that they are, essentially, all the same.

So why the hell can’t I choose one?!

The choice should be easy, it really should. Bobby loves me, has cried over having lost me, but he has also hurt me deeply, and I don’t know if he would do it again. Francisco worships me as his “Bat Queen”, and is not afraid to punch me back when I get violent. You have to respect that. He’s also watched half of Across the Universe with me, and seen me cry during the Strawberry Fields Forever sequence. But he’s also rather emotionally unstable and violent towards those he feels invade his personal territory. Dayan is...sexy. He shares many of my interests and sexual kinks, and he’s also very sensitive and sensual. He seems to be attracted by scents, as I found out when I went back to his room after taking a quick shower up in mine. “You smell so nice...”, he’d said, and shuddered in the most delicious way before, well...if you really want the details, you know my number. I can talk about things with him that I can’t even think about saying to Bobby and Francisco, like openly discussing my oral fixation and the possible reason behind it. Dayan is smart and easy to talk to, but he is also much older than me. Eleven years older. But, and god help me for this, I really want him. In a sexual way, in a spiritual way, in an emotional way, I don’t know. All I know is that something in me yearns to be with him, and I’m really tempted to follow that yearning.

Each of my three boyfriend’s have their advantages and their drawbacks. I know that I can’t have all of them, and I don’t really want to have all of them, but I still have no idea what I should do. Should I go with my heart and choose Bobby? Should I stick with convenience and security and choose Francisco? Or should I listen to whatever that thing in me is saying and choose Dayan? I’m so twisted up inside, not even copious amounts of chocolate is helping me de-stress. Help me out here, Sage, you are my only hope.

OMGWTFBBQBLOGGGERS GET PAID ASDFGHJKL

WHEN DID THIS START?!
I'm serious, folks! Look at these stats!
Jason Kottke- $5,300/month
the Fug girls- $6,240/month
The LOLcats- $5,600/month
Overheard in New York- $8,100/month
Perez Hilton - $111,000/month
THAT LAST GUY ALSO HAS A LINE OF PRODUCTS THAT ARE SOLD IN HOT TOPIC AND CLAIRE'S BOUTIQUE. What the fuck, man?! Since when does playing around on the internet constitute as an actual job? I spend at least 60% of my awake time worshipping this ungodly information box, and I don't see a dime! By those figures, I should be at LEAST a millionaire by now! I mean, I'm building a Gaia Online avatar empire! I'm pretty much the Tektek Dream Avatar goddess (I did not coin that phrase, someone else did. About me. Booyah!), so why am I not getting paid?
Then it hit me. My blog is private! I need to go public! Sage, mark your calender. This is the LAST TIME I am posting in a private blog that only one other person ever sees! Dark Spot is closed, bitches! My personal life is about to be blown wide open!
Not that anyone gives a rats ass. I mean, half the time I'm on the 'net, it's at 2 am and I'm in my nightshirt. Plus, I don't really go anywhere. I just go to comic book stores and Barnes and Noble. Sometimes I work for my dad. Blah, anyway, I'm going to start up a new blog under a new account. I'll Myspace you a link as soon as I get it up. Ooer.

Waaaah! I want to go to Arizona!!!

June 20-22, 2008- Yaoi Jamboree, Glendale, Arizona
Guests of honor: artists le Perrugine, Eiki Eiki, Mikiyo Tsuada, Aoi Futaba, Eiki Eiki, Kurenai Mitsuba; musicians The Slants

...
HOOOOOLY SHHIIIIIIITAKE MUSHROOMS!
Eiki Eiki, Mikiyo Tsuda, in America?! Crod damn it all, I want to go to this con so bad! I could probably convince my folks to let me go up to Metrocon in Tampa by way of Trirail, if I pay for it myself and sneak off without telling them...

July 18-20, 2008 - Metrocon, Tampa, Florida
Guests of honor: actors Scott McNeil, Greg Ayres, Johnny Yong Bosch, Lauren Goodnight; artists Ashley Clark, Doug Smith, costumers Heroes Alliance, Yaya Han; musicians Eyeshine

...this website is not good for my health. Check out what I just found:

September 26-28, 2008 - Tsubasacon, Huntington, West Virginia
Guests of honor: artist Jen Lee Quick; musicians Ultraball

...Jen Lee Quick? At a con? The author of Off*Beat, whom I have been Deviantart stalking for nearly three years, will be in West Virginia? Waaaaaaaaah!
Also, according to Tokyopop.com, My Cat Loki (by the lovely Bettina Kurkoski), Roadsong, and Rhysmyth have second volumes out now. I'm still waiting on third volumes for Sokora Refugees and Off*Beat, and a second volume for My Dead Girlfriend. Maybe a fourth volume for I Luv Halloween.
Ah, well. I'll just email Jen about volume 3 later...

This morning, I woke up with Stigmata...

No freaking joke. I woke up this morning, rubbed my eyes, and saw that my left hand had a bleeding hole in it. Not a big hole, just a small one, maybe the size of the top of the cap of a pen, about two cm in diameter. It freaked the hell out of me. I checked my other hand, my feet, and my forehead, but all was normal. My left hand just spontaneously decided to start bleeding. I was a bit disappointed, to tell you the truth. I mean, imagine if I was the Antichrist. Just imagine it.
Because, stereotypically, the Antichrist is supposed to be of the male persuasion, born into a deeply Christian/Catholic/Protestant/Whatever family on June 6th, with black hair and eyes and supernatural abilities that make people feel really squicky. I, however, am a blonde, female-type Jewish person with grey eyes who was born in March. And yet, I am bleeding from a spontaneous flesh wound and little Damien has nothing. So haha, little Damien! So far, I am much more of an Antichrist than you are!`I believe my first order of business as the Antichrist will be to dissolve religion. Or I could dissolve Rachel Ray with my apparently acidic blood. Decisions, decisions.

Muahahaha! Success!

I am probably the only person on the planet that can get hurt at a Panic at the Disco concert, I mean really. I twisted my ankle and while it isn't broken, it hurts like billio. But at least I managed to total the ponytail of the blonde teenie bimbo bitch that shoved me over in the first place. It'll be nine in the afternoon before that hair grows in straight again, I'll tell you that. Heh heh heh.

But still, at the end of the night, ~I~ am the one who has the guitar pick that Ryan threw offstage, not blonde teenie bimbo bitch, so HAHAHA. I'm still a bit gutted that I didn't win the guitar, though. I met the girl that won the drum thing, and she's neat.

Also, I must give credit where credit is due and say that my mom is flipping awesome. Teenie's little brunette pallio tried to shove my mega-hippie mom out of the way to get to our spot when I went over to take close-up pics of Ryan, and my mom fought back. She was polite at first, and then she started banging the little bitch on the skull with her sandlewood fan. I'd like to state for the official record that my mom rules, and that I've finally figured out where all my violence comes from. Do not mess with old hippies, as they have been peaceful for many years and are only now letting out their repressed aggression.

I'm gonna go nurse my ankle with some Diet Coke and something unhealthy from our school vending machine now, ta.