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I’m sick of thinking and talking about the shit. I’ve been talking about it with a few different friends on and off, forever. People are pissed off because they’re not getting any from anybody they wanna get some from. There’s no options. No one can meet anyone they like. Everyone’s boring or ugly. In Milwaukee, people don’t know how to get laid. People are uptight. No one trusts each other at our age because everyone’s been fucked over too much. Everyone’s suspicious of anyone who just smiles at us or says hi. The guard goes up. It’s an understandably vicious yet very stupid cycle. We’re fixated on someone from the past, however recent, maybe someone who is not good for us, who doesn’t care about us, who isn’t all that great. We ignore potential options due to dress or a particular mannerism or one thing the person’s said. In short, we’re all just a bunch of whiny, picky bitches.

Or are we?
People rant about sex all of the time, and a lot of the time we say that we just want sex, we don’t want a relationship, we don’t want anything from the other person. But for me at least, there’s got to be some level of respect. And I’m not just talking about during the one nighter. Afterwards, too, if you see the person around. That’s the damn problem with Milwaukee. It’s too easy to run into people the next fucking day. People have too many mutual friends. Someone always sees someone talking to someone and then there’s talk. If you try to talk to someone, someone’s going to see and then it’s all, X tried to hit on Y and Y was/was not into bleh bleh bleh. Shit talking motherfuckers don’t make things any easier. Certainly me mentioning this indicates my own insecurities, but shit, who wants to be known as the chick/dude who hits on everyone? That’s just foul. Like that one guy who stuck his tongue down my throat on my birthday that year. I thought dude was gonna peck me. I was inebriated. And he just behaved all sleazily. If I’d had my wits about me I’d have smacked him up. But I was too gone and too happy, really, to get too mad. But he has that rep. He’s just gross. I don’t even think he remembers me because he still leers at me when I see him out. He’s The One to Avoid. No one wants that. And for a chick to act like that, well, her rep would be even worse.

I’m ranting and would prefer not to be, but I’m just frustrated. I’m sick of talking about this with everyone and, for myself, not having the power/confidence I need to get what I want; I’m sick of my cool smart friends and myself not being able to find anyone who shares our interests and level of intellect, and I’m sick of Milwaukee losers. Seriously. This was my night recently: Some man in his mid to late thirties becomes taken with me even while I’m shrieking/rambling about retarded bullshit, and he’s not bad looking, he’s got a dimple, even, but when he gets up off his bar stool he can hardly stand, and it’s only 8pm! He’s saying things like “Jen’s remarkable!” Who the hell says that about me? I get, “Jen’s a spazz!” “Jen talks too much!” “Jen’s neurotic and needs to calm down!” That’s what I get. But this dude is all about me, and gives his number to WCZ to give to me… just a crazy drunk.

So then I go hang out with this guy who’s an acquaintance…we’d made out once before, awhile back. I’m thinking he’s just gonna shoo me on my way in a few minutes because there’s no reason to think otherwise based on the past few months of interaction, but he doesn’t, and then it becomes clear it would be acceptable for me to remove my layers of long undies and thick socks and jeans, and that goddamn eyesore of a sweater I wear because it’s warm and has an interesting looking collar, but my head just can’t let me. 1) I don’t feel sexy in the bulky clothes; 2) I have a lot on my mind; 3) I am bloated from eating three extra chicken wings. And that, friends, is my patented fucking luck. It can’t be one of those times when I’ve had 3 beers and have relaxed and have that buzz that makes me feel wound up. No. Of course I’m all fucking preoccupied and don’t feel the slightest bit hot.

But I’d be lying if I said that was all it was. It was pretty apparent that the only reason the guy wanted to hang out with me was to kill some time before he had somewhere to be, and I just don’t want to be some guy’s convenience. I’ve said this before to friends, but I think just writing and sharing it this way is helpful for me. It’d be one thing if I messed around with the person frequently and we had formed some sort of unspoken groove and perhaps were actually friends, but that wasn’t the case with this person. From my perspective, even though I tried to get there (albeit awkwardly at times), we’ve never had that moment where it clicks, where we were both like, ah, ok, I get you now, or at least, I‘m beginning to get you, even though we see each other and speak with each other quite often. And that makes me uncomfortable. I guess I‘m being utopian again, thinking you can sporadically fuck someone and also actually and truly be their friend. I don‘t know. I just want to feel somewhat special, even for just one night or those few hours, if it‘s gonna be random. I don’t want to feel like someone’s convenience. And I don’t want to feel like I can’t ever approach a guy like that and have my advances accepted. I can’t stand for sex to only occur when the guy wants it to. That’s my pride. So maybe it’s that people who have lesser standards and a lesser sense of pride get laid more? And obviously people who are sexier and better at playing the game. I don’t know. I’m just fucking sick of this shit, and I don’t understand why it’s so hard to find someone who would want to either sit under the covers in my bed next to me while we read books or tear off all of my clothes, or maybe even do both, sometimes…