Sweet

Dear Diary,

I decided to look for something to distract me from the existential dread that routinely plagues me whenever I go home for the holidays.

As juvenile as it sounds, I went to the places I used to hang around when I was in high school. There was a 7-11 across the street from the high school but even that felt like too much. I wanted to get into trouble, not go to jail. Then I thought of the library, but it was closed until after the new year. Then I remembered; the skatepark.

Burnouts, students, and actual pros used to hang out there back in my day (God, it was only five years ago—why does it feel so long?). Unfortunately, when I got there it was pretty much empty. There were a few shaggy haired dudes practicing some tricks on beaten up boards...then I saw the kid. A slacker from my AP Physics class who was undeniably smart and unquestionably a pain in the ass. But he looked different than he used to. More mature...or something.

He saw me staring at him and said, “Hello.”

-XOXO

Cherry Pie

Dear Diary,

I just realized, I never told you how my trip back home was.

It was pretty uneventful but that’s what makes it so noteworthy. My younger cousins are growing up...so are my friends, so am I. I know this isn’t rocket science or a new occurrence. Still, I think that when you’re younger you’re in such a hurry to do things and see the world. It’s like you’re laying the foundation for who you’ll become. Some people turn into their parents and others turn into people they don’t recognize.

I almost didn’t recognize my cousins; I guess I’ve been away from home longer than I thought. They didn’t ambush me and bombard me with questions the way they used to. Instead, they hugged me and asked me about my trip, then they went back downstairs to play video games. I decided I’d remind them who their favorite cousin was with a pie—cherry—my specialty.

As I was rolling the dough and preparing the pie crust, I caught my reflection in the freshly shined table. I looked like my mom, or rather, I looked like my mom when she was still a plump, juicy, cherry.

And just like the pie I was making, soon that cherry would turn into something barely recognizable—but, hopefully, so much sweeter.

-Eve

Hollow Holidays

Dear Diary,

I got a post-holiday text message from Ryan. It was simple.

Hey. With no How are you or what have you been up to attached. I was crushed but I wanted to keep it light. I responded, Not today Satan, not today. I thought he would laugh but he didn’t say anything. Anyway, a few hours later I said—okay, well nice hearing from you, merry christmas!  

This time he did respond. He said, wow. K, merry christmas to you to.

I felt like he was angry with me, but I didn’t want to take the bait. I didn’t have to wait long. After fifteen minutes he said,

Look, it’s just that I’m not in town that often. It feels like you’re blowing me off.

--What? I don’t owe you sex, bro.

...Do you have someone else? Already??

--That’s none of your concern.

All right, I see how it is.

I don’t know if I made the right decision. A few minutes ago, he sent me another message. He said, hey, I’m sorry. Merry Christmas.

Even though I won, technically...I still feel hollow inside.

-Eve

Unapologetically

Dear Diary,

I’m in an especially peculiar situation. I can see returns on any investment I make on my personal appearance almost instantaneously.  One of the many perks of working in a strip club. I told my new beau about it and he laughed.

I don’t really like him. He’s the SVP at L’Oreal or something, he made his job sound like a big deal, but I know it’s just upper middle management (to quote Westworld). Even if he did work hard to get where he is, he’s still a forty-year-old man who chases after women less than half his age. I think I’m mature enough to know we’re not on the same playing field, we’re practically girls to him. Also, I’m on my period and my bitchy side is out in full force.

I like it. You know what else pissed me off about him? He made my comment about the strip club seem so trivial, but I bet stripper data is something many marketing “experts” would love to get their hands on. He’s lucky he has money, or I wouldn’t talk to him at all.

-Unapologetically,

Eve

The animal that lurks beneath us all

Dear Diary,

I decided to give Jeremy another chance. Fuck—Ryan! I really meant to say Ryan. Anyway, I decided to give Ryan a chance.

He said he was busy and “the nature of [his] work means he can’t always be transparent with me”, like he works in the fucking CIA or something. Still, I guess he’s working with sensitive artists and Ryan doesn’t know me well enough to be sure I can keep a secret. All in all, it can’t hurt to give him another chance...so long as I don’t get too attached and fall for his flattery.

Besides, I’m horny. So horny. There’s no polite way to put it; I want his dick inside me. I need him.

I can’t have just anyone. I need the buildup, the anticipation. I need to feel him wanting me, the animal that lurks beneath us all. I want everything. I want to give in to it all. I want him to cum in my face and spit in my mouth and push my face into his asshole. 

Hopefully sex with him is good and he doesn’t cum fast or something lame like that.

That would be such a disappointment.

-XO

Morning

Dear Diary,

Perhaps I should make a habit of getting up early? I’m in a creative haze, and I keep touching myself...it feels like I’m on the edge of an orgasm that I can’t allow myself to have. Not for a little while.

My date with Ryan was nice, but he refused to sleep with me. Either he’s toying with me or he has a small penis and he wants me to like him for his personality before he shows it to me, and I run away screaming. Haha, I crack myself up sometimes.

On a serious note I think he enjoys playing with me. Maybe mind games turn him on...in a way, I like them too. I need to remember to have fun, not everything is so serious. And lovers come and go—I don’t get mad at butterflies for flying away.

Even though I want this one to stay.

Until next time!

XOXO

Poetry keeps me warm

Dear Diary,

Everything I want to say about you is

         cliché and true.

Everything I want to say

         gets caught in my throat.

Everything I want

         more than anything

I cannot say. 

I couldn’t sleep so I wrote a poem. It’s about Jeremy.

Do you like it?

Tired of heartbreak

Dear Diary,

I started dating someone new. We met on Raya...it’s so funny how it used to be weird to use the internet to meet people. Now, I can’t imagine a world without Tinder. It’s also crazy because we used to live next to each other—I was a few houses down the street from him, and never knew.

Anyway, I met him on accident. I was promoting a party and playing on my phone when I matched with him. After another promoter yelled at me “Get off your phone, we’re not paying you to play blah blah blah”, he walked in. My first thought was, where have I seen him before? Turns out possibly in real life and definitely in cyberspace (why doesn’t anyone use that word anymore?)

Look, I’m not sure if I like him and I’m sick of getting my heart broken. But his name is Ryan and he seems nice. I guess it won’t hurt to give him a try. 

-XO

What is it to have strength?

To truly be a power in this world... what is required? What does it mean to have strength? As a women in this city at this time… How to I prove myself, how do I gain acceptance and approval? What is it to have strength? 

Perhaps to have strength it is to not need to prove oneself. Maybe strength is not giving a fuck about approval, about the acceptance of others. Of course, there is a certain evolutionary need to being accepted. Acceptance equals our survival. But beyond our basic survival and our cooperation in the day to day. Perhaps true strength is giving up the incessant need to fit in. Because true thriving survival and fertility comes with the differences we have. Our diversity is strength, our diversity is power. We no longer need to fit into this neat, trimmed, appropriate tradition of who we ought to be. Maybe who we ought to be is exactly who we are. Just being, in the present. Creatures of pure existence. Maybe wounded, but nonetheless pure, beautiful, and powerful. I don’t want to be the perfect picture of strength, because my power lies within the idiosyncratic intricacies I present within this world. 

Thought of the Day.

A true love is someone who will rise up with you, to meet you, to grow with you. If they aren’t willing to evolve with you, then they are not worthy of your love.

This is the constant reminder I need to share with myself, with my ladies, with the people in my life that I know are worth more than what they receive.

Grow with us or stay behind.

A Ghost of Relationships Past.

Well, here we are. I am about to see my ex soon and I do not know how to feel about this. I am excited to see him because, well, we loved each other. It is hard not to find joy and curiosity and love, yet again, with someone you’ve had such a deep connection with. It’s hard to resist that tenderness in your heart, especially when it wasn’t a toxic relationship. So here I am, nervous, excited, on the verge of tears. So many things going through my body. And I welcome it. I welcome the anxiety and the joy and I know that it won’t be easy, it certainly won’t be simple. But that is love.

Heating Things Up!

Ok, wow. So do I have a treat!!! I went out with the man that I may, perhaps, sort of, by accident, like. And among drinks I discovered he is not only an entrepreneur of many things (which is how we met)….he is a fireman?! Oh boy am I in for a treat. I think this is everyone’s fantasy coming to life. All I need to know now is that he strips on the side in his helmet and boots… please god, let him be a stripper! I think then could I finally find someone to accept my work fully and be totally compatible with. So here is to heating things up, baby!

Fucking Travel.

I love fucking traveling, and fucking while traveling. I think I get more action while I am away than I do in my hometown. Something about the inhibition, I can fall in love with someone for just one night and not ever have the chance of being let down, disappointed, or taken advantage of. In this realm I have all the power. And I love it. I choose who, when, how, and I leave. Onto my next destination and the next person who is awaiting my seduction. There is something so precious about adventure and sex. Each one I collect like a postcard I sent to myself from places far away. It is a gift of mine and a true joy in my life. Sometimes when I am horny and lusting for something more, I do not go on dating apps, I do not waste my time with fickle, busy, and pompous New Yorkers surrounding me. I book a ticket and take a vacation. At least then I will know I will be romanced, stimulated and appreciated. No need to have that awkward talk on how they “don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Every time I hear that I am turned off. Not because I want a relationship, but because, fuck off, youre not that great and can’t you just fuck me with all your heart and leave it at that? Oh, you can’t ok, then I don’t have time for you or your dick. Thank you, NEXT! 

Now what country should I visit now?

Accidental Crush.

Ok, so I know I said I don’t have time for men who don’t pay me. And I have been on a pretty good streak a part from my love affairs abroad (which, let’s be honest has been quite frequent). But...I hate to admit, I have met someone. Well, by met someone I mean I have gone a couple dates and have been chatting frequently. I am hesitant because the emotional energy necessary to dive into someone that I may, potentially, perhaps, by accident, I don’t know… LIKE… it takes a lot. And now being the New Yorker I am, on track, achieving my goals, planning for the long-term, I cannot afford to have anyone take that away, I can’t afford to be swayed off my course. But It happened. He approached me at this conference, shy, sweet, hesitant, and really trying to be that ‘nonchalant, cool, I don’t really care, but hey here is my card’ type of vibe. It was more endearing than annoying fuckboi. So I accepted and contacted. We went out on a date and it was lovely, he is an absolute gentlemen and so sexy! I honestly have not been with someone this chivalrous in a while. He walks street side, opens up the door for me every time, and gets out of his car to greet me and to say goodbye. Perhaps it’s this old school way of treating a lady that has my knees weak, but we shall see soon enough. For now, I will take the loveliness for what it is and be patient in the meantime, non-expectant, and no assumptions. He is who he is, we are enjoying our time and I should keep a part of myself reserved...we all know what it’s like to give it all and be greatly disappointed. And to be real with you, I am tired of being disappointed, hence why I have not allowed myself to date since my last partner a year ago. But you can be let down if you don’t let them lift you up...right?

A Poem in Passing.

Yesterday, I went to a cafe to work, as usual. I wrote and reflected on how I want to be seen, how I want to be heard, what I have to offer. I was deep in my head but I did happen to notice a man nearby. He had smooth hazelnut skin, his hair piled atop his head in thick, knotted dreadlocks. He had rings on his fingers and gold in his ears. He caught me, even just from the periphery. I melted a little and then gathered myself. 

“No, Eve!” I muttered to myself. “You have NO time to have a crush, to busy to waste your energy on men...unless of course they are paying me well.”

 So, I return. I return to my thoughts, my goals, my planning. And I did a good job at keeping my focus because not once after that did I notice he was there, in fact as I was leaving I completely forgot that I had that momentary lapse, until I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked back and there he was. Smiling so sweetly I could feel my pussy swell with desire beneath the touch of his hand on my shoulder. And even more impressive was he just smiled and said “I want to give this to you.” And then he walked away. 

I was left a bit shaken, by his sexy voice, his kind face, his candor, and the fact that he just left. He left me standing there with a small poem in hand and at the end of the poem he scrawled across the bottom of the paper “you are a queen.”

Get a clue

Dear Diary,

I don’t have much time to talk, the Rosewood regular is coming over and I want to be ready when he gets here. At the same time, I want to get some of my thoughts out before he arrives, this way I don’t word vomit all of my feelings onto the floor.

The thing is I feel bad. He may not realize but I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t really like me, he’s using me as a means to validate himself. Maybe he’s going through a mid-life crisis (I go through several quarter life crises myself ,so I think I recognize flamboyant self-doubt when I see it). I want to see him; I want to tell him I’m grateful for all the little gifts and trinkets.

Then I’m going to tell him to get a grip. Oh shit, here he comes!

-Until next time!

Sleep Wanted

Dear Diary,

Fuckkkk me. I don’t think I’ve been this tired in years. Luckily, I still find time to complain.

So, this job with HBO doesn’t pay that much. It’s more of a foot in the door, almost like an apprenticeship. That’s why I’m still dancing when I have free time. It’d be hard to pay my bills if I only used that as my sole source of income. With that being said, I still work hard at my day job because I know it’ll pay off in the future. But that’s translated into a sort of fatigue I haven’t felt in years.

My boss wanted me to ghost write an article for her, and I was like A) unethical and B) that isn’t my job. I did it anyway because I’m a pussy. What really pisses me off is that it took forever...so now I’m too tired to go to Rosewood. Which sucks because I’ve really started to miss the club and the friends I’ve made there.

I know I’ll get past this, but right now I’m struggling. And I hate being vulnerable...so who do I have to talk to? Besides you...

Can You Afford Me?

Dear Diary,

I did something bad.

Remember that guy from 1OAK? Well he’s married with a baby and usually I don’t care about that stuff (business is business) but now I think he’s obsessed with me. I kinda like it.

It’s bad because I know he can’t afford me. He’s really overspending and trying to prove he can take care of me. On my first day at HBO (which went great btw), there were two dozen de-thorned roses at my desk. This continued for a week. He always Venmo’s me money so I can take an Uber instead of the train...little things like that. It’s sweet but I know he can’t afford to keep doing it, tiny water droplets add up and eventually you have a bucket of water. Not everyone can afford to get wet.

God forbid he actually wins me over...maybe it was wrong to sleep with him. I shouldn’t use people as emotional support pillows.

Then again, it’s so much fun.

A Night of Fun

Dear Diary,

Don’t be mad at me, okay.

I wanted to celebrate the good news so I went out last night. A few of my homegirls from Rosewood were already at 1OAK so I didn’t see the harm in stopping by for a few minutes. It’s funny; I was barely two drinks in when I saw an old regular from the club. He was never a big spender, and he made it clear he wanted a sugar baby, so eventually we lost contact...until last night.

He said Hello, and he told me I looked good. We made small talk and I remembered why I liked him—he’s such a nerd! There’s no smoothness to him, no oil or honey in his speech. He’s straightforward in a way that’s refreshing in a sea of finance bros and music industry douchebags. Maybe that’s why I took his hand and led him into the bathroom with me.

At first, I let him kiss me. Slowly, then I opened my mouth and let him stick his tongue inside. I let him take off my shirt and my bra...by the time he started sucking on my nipples I was ready...but I let him finish because he was being such a good boy. I lightly kissed the tip of his penis before I let him put it inside me. We didn’t use a condom.

I know it was stupid but I needed some fun. I haven’t been the same since Jeremy left (I promised myself I’d start mentioning him less). So yeah...that’s what I did.

Last night, I had fun.

Silver Tongue

Diary,

I can’t believe it! Literally, my hands are shaking as I type.

I got the job!!!

Seriously, the job I pined for—the one I worked so hard for, the one I thought would change everything...I fucking got it. And it’s like I’m excited...but also terrified. What if it’s not what I thought it would be...what if I’m not good at it? I know it’s a little early for imposter syndrome but...what if they gave me this job because I’m a good bullshiter? What if the person they think they hired isn’t me at all?? What am I supposed to do then?

I guess I should worry about that after my first day. Honestly, it doesn’t do me any good to worry about it now.

Right?