The Green Fairy, et al.

Man, I love absinthe. Neat. In small quantities. But I love it.
Went out with PB to watch Wolverine today. Nice. Not spectacular - just great. Liked Angels and Demons better - it left more of an impression.
After, we walked up and down M.G. and Brigade Road, sipping absinthe from a lovely little mouthwash bottle. It was so well disguised that I was proud of myself. :)
It also hit us (me, at least!) fairly fast, and I went giggle-crazy. Also started unabashedly leching at the men walking around on the street. Slim pickings tonight, but we were pretty thorough.
Admitted to her that I've had sex. A liberating feeling. Less to pretend about. Good, all in all, to have done that.
Also, meeting her made me feel happy again. I needed a college-style outing - living at home is driving me mad. Also, don't have a room to myself, and that's starting to slice my nerves very thinly and precisely. Argh. Felt good to act my age, and to get out there. Just didn't want to come back here.
Was drunk enough to almost call out to a guy on the road. :P Might have been fun. Who knows.
Then my mum called, followed not too soon after by my dad. Wanted to shoot them both. Sometimes, you just. don't. care. And it becomes very difficult not to give in to that. Managed somehow. Almost fell asleep in the auto back. Wanted to. Didn't give in, eventually.
I'm so fucking desperate to get some action, it's pathetic. I've gotten myself off innumerable times these past few days. Nothing stands out. I need a man. I need to make out. I need to fuck. And, quoting from Californication, I need to screw like I have something I need to get out of my system. (I do.) I want random play. I don't want to know names or phone numbers or to ever meet the guy again. I just want some.
And now I'm thinking about that hot dad. Sigh. I am SUCH a loser.

Ramble.

I, like, totally love this statement.
And I just discovered Polyvore. I think the concept is frickin' awesome - though I'm sure it must result in a lot of wasted time, heheh. It's one of those... addictions that I'd love to have.
Sigh. I want an addiction.
Perhaps I already have one, in him. I'm afraid that it really is one, our relationship. It scares me to analyse it like that - and it scares me even more when we talk about it and he analyses it like that.
Desperately wanting things to work out won't make them work out. That's a lesson I learnt a long time ago. I can only hope that goodness follows, and does not abate. I don't even want to hope for anything too specific. Like I'm afraid I'll jinx it... whatever it is.

In other news, I've also discovered Playlist.com. Which I have fallen in love with. My current playlist includes Blondie's Maria (from the 90's, people), Emosanal Atyachar from the Dev D OST, and Shine On by The Kooks, which shuffle with Just Like You Imagined by NIN and Rooster by Alice In Chains. That's about as diverse as I can get. Oh, and the Jonas Brothers and Katy Perry also feature on the list. As does Will Smith. So, yeah, you get the picture. I've thought of a song I want to listen to, and added it. This is the result - the kind of beautiful chaos I've always struggled to embrace.
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Which brings me to another thought I often have - the real extent of my self-proclaimed liberal philosophy. I've realised that I don't feel offended or scandalised when faced with most forms of profanity or vulgarity - as long as I don't have to actually see/experience it in person. I love being able to joke about a good fuck with my lover. I love being able to talk about how our professors are such grumps because they haven't gotten any in a while, and I totally love imitating the way MPPP feels up guys sitting by the aisle during his class. I loved the movie Shortbus (so. much.)

So while I love the idea of sex (and love it when I can have it, too), I can't reconcile myself to the idea of casual sex. That bit I find myself unable to deal with. This inability also encompasses casual encounters of the drunk-making-out kind. I'm a rather paranoid, cautious person, which means that I would never let myself get into a situation where Drunk Making Out With Random would happen. Heck, I can understand drunk making out. But when someone says that all the guys she's made out with while drunk "don't count" - yeah, that freaks me out some. A lot. A huge fucking lot.

Maybe it's just that I've never had to look for action (my being committed to someone for the last couple of years might have had something to do with it), or maybe I place meaning and value in being intimate with another - but this is one thing I just can't get my head around. Perhaps it's hypocritical. I know that in my head I secretly want to have casual sex, for the fun of it (and that's possibly the least of my fantasies, which stretch to domination and group sex without much effort). But the peculiar state of my real-life relationship means that I will never, as long as it continues, go there, or ask him to let me. I love too strongly, and have given of myself too wholly, and learnt bitter lessons from too many mistakes, to let that happen. So I don't mind being a hypocrite in this matter, if it means that I know where I stand. It gives me peace of mind. Wouldn't you choose the same, too?