I was going through my phone the other night and I determined that my entire life can be summed up as one long series of text messages from Adia. This is completely unrelated to what this entry is about.
I wrote on my private blog yesterday (yes, I do have another) that I’ve had to make a series of changes this year in order to adjust to the unexpected consequences of Sex and the Ivy: “It’s not even about the public scrutiny and recognition and inability to make new friends or meet new people. It is about old friends and their scrutiny and my attempts to make a space for myself that is my own. The past semester has been about drawing the line between public and private, narrowing the list of people in my life to a handful I want to invest in, and separating my professional endeavors from my college existence.”
I’ve explained this to several people already but I think it’s important to get it down into words: I don’t want to make new friends, I don’t like strangers, and I never want to date another guy who knows about my blog. It almost sounds cold but the handful of people (and I really do mean handful) who I have become better acquainted with this year are almost all friends of existing friends. It’s hard to trust people’s intentions unless you have others vouching for them. Frankly, I’m not interested in befriending or dating someone who finds me intriguing merely because I write a controversial sex blog. Obviously, it’s a different story with fellow writers and bloggers, but when it comes to typical peer interaction, “What’s Kyle’s real identity?” should not be on the top of the get-to-know-you list. It almost makes me wonder if I was considered at all interesting before I started writing this thing.
Along the same lines, I’ve found myself becoming much more private even with my close friends. It doesn’t mean that I’m shutting off in the slightest. But for someone with such little privacy as it is, it’s not asking much to be left alone when I want to be. I’m tired of being interrogated every time a new male figure emerges in my life or someone comes over to hang out. Sometimes, it’s not even about my privacy but the other party’s. Living in such close quarters with five other girls last semester was extremely stifling. Between my blockmates, friends, and readers, I had almost nothing that was left to myself. My romantic turmoil, depression, insecurities — all of it played out in the public sphere. I felt anxious all the time, could barely focus on my work, and finally, pulled away violently from everyone. Months later, the solution, as it turns out, is to actually not tell everyone everything. Surprise surprise.
Another change: I’m less patient nowadays. I’m remarkably blessed to have such solid friends in my life and I’m not exactly in need of extra company. This isn’t the first day of freshman year. I have no patience for dealing with shitty personalities. Being thrust into the spotlight has made it spectacularly clear that it’s quality, not quantity, I should be looking for in terms of friends and that in order to get to the few good ones, there’s a lot of judgmental, superficial assholes to weed through. I spent the better part of freshman year putting up with undeserved criticism and general bitchiness. I get enough of that bullshit from Sex and the Ivy critics; I don’t need it in my day-to-day life. Quite honestly, if you’re not going to get with the program, then get the fuck out.
I forgave two people recently. One simply disappeared from my life after an unexpected personal crisis; the other drifted away slowly but deliberately. I felt rejected by both at the time and never really understood what happened. But once I heard their respective explanations, I felt compelled to forgive them. The former was someone who treated me with respect right up until disappearing without a trace. The latter was responsible for my making it through the college transition. There is something to be said for being human, making mistakes, owning up to them, and apologizing. Sometimes, “sorry” is just about enough. I’m still waiting for a “sorry” from more than one party.
In sex-related news, I have been off of birth control for two weeks and I’m seriously considering just going without it indefinitely. I am having such a difficult time with the mere conception of a hookup, much more sex, that I don’t see the purpose in taking the Pill. Of course, I can’t foresee the future and who knows what a summer in New York will hold. Besides, prior history (i.e. Summer Guy) has demonstrated that relationships occur when least expected. Nonetheless, I am determined to stay abstinent and I know that I won’t have sex using only a condom. I have only had bad experiences with relying on one form of protection (had to resort to Plan B with both Summer Guy and Aidan) so third time is definitely not the charm. If I’m not popping the pill, no one’s popping the regrown cherry.