Sex & Journalism

In an effort to get to the top of the class, I have been paying attention to only two things: 1) University projects and required books 2) Men who teach and inspire me to write my own books, that I just may possibly be able to use for (very risqué) University projects.  Due to that, my ability to pay attention to (and then write about) the sex life of anyone but my own has nearly completely diminished.  Making time for a sex life of my own is even an incredible challenge.  I actually turned down a trip to the Maldives in order to have more time to study and catch up with my course work!  The Maldives! That, my lovelies, should tell you something.  However, I am a woman of my word.  When I created this blog, I committed to keeping it updated.  In order to both fulfill my duties for class and for my commitment to you, I give you this compromise: a micro report.

Speaking of micro-reports, if you haven’t joined me on Twitter, yet, please do.  I’ve decided to get off my high horse and play with the masses on what I consider a rather plebian site.  Should you have swallowed your pride and joined the social commons as well; I would be most honored to have your companionship there.  Besides, there are a few people of interest there like wine advisors, and one of my newest favorite sites:

www.stuffrichepeoplelove.com

And now, for the scanty scoop:

It was over a glass of wine at the Dorchester that Coconut informed me of the unfortunate news regarding a man I have always enjoyed.  I think Coconut and I both take a similar view on the situation.  My sympathy goes out to David Letterman.  Did he make some mistakes?  Yes.  But did he make mistakes any other man hasn’t made, besides being caught?  No.  It is most despicable when fools like Joe Halderman threaten and take advantage of people in order to advance their own lives.  I think Mr. Letterman handled his situation well, and I’m crossing my fingers for his ability to sail smoothly (as possible) through this and that this creep of a producer (aren’t they usually?) does, in fact, get his 15 years in prison.

Letterman Scandal

While this has not been a personal subject of conversation, how does one avoid the news of these creeps? Roman Polanski and Gore Vidal have both earned my sincerest disapproval and uttermost disgust.  Regardless of a young woman’s profession (especially if she is barely out of childhood) rape is rape.  A “hooker” deserves no less respect than any other woman.

Creepy Old Hollywood Types And Their Offenses

In personal news, I’ve been collecting a lovely assortment of exciting stories to share with you and the very near future holds a masked and glamorous event that I’ll be attending in my new, fair, city, from which I’m sure I’ll have even more stories to tell.  Details remain a secret for now. Meow!

 X~

Raquel

“Raquel: I am having dinner with Coconut. We often don’t speak for many days. I text him… I call him… he doesn’t respond. A friend? Coconut…He’s busy I say He knows he is wrong…yet me with my sports…and you with your career…he has his job…his life. He thinks of you a lot…but in these tough times…his priority is his job/work. Be well. Stay strong…We talk about you and hope you are well. Much love S”

Be strong?! What took all my strength is not throwing my Blackberry across Vineland Avenue when I got this text after the first day of my weekend long class. Let’s break this down…

Coconut has always had an incredibly demanding job. All I ever heard about was how much money was lost or how he had to take sudden trips to such and such a country for last minute damage control meetings to ensure that X million was not lost again. Coconut is stress on legs. So “these tough times” aren’t so sudden and different from the tough times that have been coming and going for over the past year. He’s very familiar with stress. Am I really supposed to believe that he has suddenly been hit with such a different and devastatingly difficult time that he has lost all ability to communicate with other human beings, particularly the one’s he cares about? Just how am I supposed to believe that? Let me paint the picture:

Coconut is sitting there with S, whom he’s taken to dinner in Manhattan on a Saturday night. One of Coconut’s full time drivers drove them there. To the well-suited waiter, Coconut points (with a Patek Philippe adorned wrist) to the words that describe the nicest bottle of wine on the menu and orders it for the two of them. The celebrity chef prepared dinner (that consists of no less that 3 courses) is paid for on his titanium card and the shoes that he had hand made by his lifelong shoemaker in London will look oh-so-uniquely him as he leaves the newly written about establishment. The next day, he will ride his newest motorcycle to his house on the water in a neighboring state. His other houses are too far away to ride to. The help will have everything cleaned for him so he has a nice area to think about work, make himself something to eat, ponder the meaning of life, jerk off and take a shit. Then he will go back to his massive Manhattan apartment where he will have dinner and talk to his wife about art, or the next trip to Europe, or her work, or whatever it is she talks about. In the morning, donning yet another new watch, a Breitling this time, he will be driven to work where his assistant will pretend that she’s not annoyed with his short temper and demands. He will take a lunch break. He will probably, at some point, unzip the tailored pants that he ordered from that store in Knightsbridge so he can jerk off and shit again. He will probably have time for a coffee and a couple of martinis through the course of his day. He will probably have time for conversation among co-workers. He will probably have time to flip though the pages of The Luxury Index. He will probably have time to take calls from his family, his privately schooled kids and probably also have time to exchange a couple of personal e-mails, maybe friends from boarding school. Here’s my point:

“Tough times” is not going to work with me for several reasons. First, he is not the only one in a position as important as his. Lot’s of people do lot’s of important things and for the most part, they can handle their responsibilities as their ability to not flip out was probably one of the reasons they got to that level in the first place. And while many if not most people are being affected by this economic downfall, many if not most people still remain the same person, do the same things and are capable of carrying on without completely having to abandon everybody and everything they’ve ever known due to stress. Most of them don't have a black card, and they survive just fine. I would also like to point out that I have seen tough times and the results of a weakening economy, and it does not consist of a garage full of $150,000 cars.

The excuse of not having enough time isn’t going to work either. How is it that he doesn’t have enough time to talk TO me, but he has enough time to take his friend out to dinner and talk ABOUT me?  It takes 20 seconds to send a text message. This is less time than it takes him to finish business in the lav, finish those martinis, enjoy his cup of coffee or bark at his driver. He can find time to do all these things, but he can’t find the time to push the send key?  “He thinks about you a lot. We talk about you…”  but the man can’t push a button?! My white ass!

And what the Hell is his 40 something year old friend doing sending me text messages? Isn’t interception and translation for Jr. High students and marriage counselors? I am not 14 and I am not in couple’s therapy with him. What is this third party communication business? And why does S think that I’m unhappy with Coconut for the sole reason that I haven’t heard from him “in many days”. Horseshit!

I guess Coconut conveniently forgot to tell him that in addition to the poor excuse ridden neglect that he’s been showing me (try months, not days), he is also an arrogant ass who only thinks about what he wants. He must have forgotten to tell S about all the promises that he has failed to keep. He must have forgotten to tell S about how he expects me to be there for him at his beck and call and that he becomes angry when I dare to be “busy” myself. He must have forgotten to tell S that he makes me feel unwanted and unappreciated if I even hint at having some kind of natural feminine occurrence. He must have forgotten to tell S that he commands me on the way he thinks is proper for me to live my life without actually taking the time to listen about what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. Maybe he actually listens to S? He must have also forgotten to tell S that he hates it when I speak out loud (even though he is a much louder talker than I am) as he claims that I embarrass him with loud American talk and inappropriate subjects. Is playfully asking the smiling flight attendant for a second drink for us because we are “feeling like being lushes today” really that embarrassing? Isn’t that better than barking “Two vodkas!” and starting at her like she’s an idiot until she walks away? Maybe S didn’t get the message about how bad it makes me feel when I get put down like that. Maybe S didn’t get informed about how it makes me feel when Coconut tells me that he doesn’t like what I’m wearing because it looks cheap (Bebe/Banana Republic) and that I should buy nicer things, but he doesn’t enable me to do that. And when I work so I can afford the things he wants me to wear, he gets mad at me for “going back to that”.  S must have not been informed that Coconut has the tendency to say one thing one day and the complete opposite the next, and then accuse me of imagining things and hearing him wrong.  Maybe S was not informed that Coconut’s apologies consist of a quick and nearly incomprehensible “I’m sorry” followed by either an accusation (in an attempt to put the guilt back on me) or a change of the subject because he refuses to talk about anything that is uncomfortable to him, even if the fact that ignoring that uncomfortable thing makes the other party uncomfortable. Coconut knows and serves one purpose: the good of Coconut. Forget the charity. That doesn’t even fool me into thinking that there is good in him anymore. Charity is nothing more than a tax break.    

Coconut just keeps getting more and more difficult to like. The relationship becomes harder and harder to maintain. I could do without the sex. I could do without the money and the gifts. But I can not do without respect and the most basic rules of appreciation and friendship. If I’m not getting any of those, what’s left? I am tired of pushing away my pride to cater to Coconut’s needs. Being his relief and his companion was rewarding when I was being rewarded, even if it was just with a kind word or the way he grabbed my hand or the way his face lit up with not so very discreet satisfaction every time he had the revelation that I was “crazy” as him. But now that I am nothing more than an inconvenient woman who he has the time to think about but not the time to speak to; now that I am no longer getting any reward, my feelings toward him have shifted from pleasure to pain. What about my needs? What’s left in this for me?

So Coconut remains on my shit list. Fancy Pants, on the other hand, made a call last week that elevated him from shit list to the neutral list. The fact that I got a 90 on the French test that I took right after speaking to him gives him points, too. Perhaps I should make it a point to contact him right before all my difficult tests? Anyhow, FP has a much cooler way of handling things and will probably always have more respect from me. We’ve discussed meeting in December. It would be nice to see him again. It’s always a breath of fresh air to be in the company of someone who is sane and rational.

X~

Raquel

Uncle T is a nice man with a big smile and initials on his sleeves embroidered in a thread that matches his pale hair. We met through one of the arrangement websites when I had first moved into the 5th floor walk up sublet on the UWS. Physically, he wasn’t my type, but he had a heart of gold and big promises so I gave him a chance. We went out several times, but I never became his mistress. He reminded me too much of someone’s cheesy teddy bear uncle. I tried and tried to imagine myself in the relationship he wanted, and as much as I enjoyed spending time with him, I had difficulty seeing myself move forward with a physical relationship. Perhaps it was his overly enthusiastic and excessively delighted and eager attitude that put me off. That happens frequently with men like him. Just like my San Francisco guy, if they have grand plans about my future with them, I become alarmed and uncomfortable. But without the work the Emperors Club provided me with and with my new full time student schedule, times have gotten very tough. So, when planning my most recent trip to NY, I alerted Uncle T. He had magnificent plans for us, he said. We would have an expensive dinner at an enchanting restaurant, followed by a trip to Broadway to watch Jersey Boys. Then we would go to a room where we would drink wine and..well, do what Uncle T had been dreaming of doing for about 2 years now. It would be a good time with a nice man, and I would be rewarded. I have textbooks to pay for. Now was the time. We were going to see each other on Wednesday, the first day I would be spending in the city and the day before I would leave to Montana with Coconut. But leave it to Coconut to instinctively pull me away from any plans I may have with anybody whose name doesn’t begin with C and end with nut. He told me we were leaving on Wednesday, as opposed to Thursday, which led to my cancellation with Uncle T. Then, I was told that we were leaving on Thursday, which led to a brief argument with him regarding his irresponsibility with my schedule, which led to yet another reconciliation. I figured it was best. As nice as Uncle T is, if I was meant to have slept with him, it would have already happened. Coco and I would be going out to dinner on Wednesday instead and leaving at 8am the next morning to the middle of nowhere.

Montana was nice to see and I hardly thought about how much I must have disappointed Uncle T with my last minute cancellation. While Coconut stressed out about his legal troubles, the millions that he makes and loses daily and all the other things Coco stresses out about, I tried to turn the attention to things more frivolous and far less important. My place with my brown skinned special friend (hence the "coco" before the "nut"), I’ve decided, is to be the relief. I tried to do that, but it was a challenge. He sometimes gets so focused on his troubles that he’s impenetrable. My efforts to be what he wasn’t (penetrable) were not as successful as I would have liked. Even the promise of the thing that only a woman can give didn’t relax him. This was because, despite my efforts to skip that time of the month by jumping pills in my birth control pack, I was not able to keep things entirely neat and tidy. He freaks about bodily fluids and neither of us had quite the fun that I was hoping for. We did watch some interesting adult movies though, and I learned that despite his preference for blonds, a brunette with a really nice ass could trump a blond without one. Sweet...  I roamed the city when he was away and along with some cute boutiques, I found a toy store one would not expect to find in a small town like Bozeman. It was nice, but I’m getting really frustrated at my inability to find just the right rabbit fur flogger.

He disappears on the weekends. He is always either with family or at one of his other homes, getting away from everyone. I used that time to try to hustle up some business, but the cute little Indian man who I had discussed meeting when I was in town didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t interested in getting together for a real, non paid date. I needed money if I was going to see him. I told him that from the beginning. He must have conveniently forgot. He protested that he wasn’t rich yet, but soon. The promise of having money soon does not do me much good now, so we didn't get together. Whatever… I had also planned on meeting with another new guy from the current arrangement site. He had written that he would like to meet for lunch, to see if we get along, but then he never followed through. That left me with two days to myself, in which I did more endless research on Universities, added more to my book, and surfed the net until my eyes couldn’t bear to look at the screen anymore. The weekend was mostly uneventful, except for a quick trip to a place in Brooklyn, (where Clinton had a gig) and a call from my (once again) drunk and suicidal dad. It always pains me to hear him like that, but I’ve learned there’s nothing I can do except listen. Clinton was there when I was on the phone, and says I stay composed for dealing with such a heavy situation.  I guess I’m much better at appearing composed than actually being it.

Coco and I met again at the Hudson where I had a room. We had some drinks and some dinner, then he offered a donation to take care of  my hotel rooms for the week as well as some school expenses (and maybe a little Botox therapy, although I couldn’t ever confess that to him).  He said it was part reward for putting up with him.  He knows how impossible he can be. I’m happy to try to be his friend. Inside that nut there is a pleasant and wonderful man.

Fancy Pants is giving me a bit of cold shoulder still... a lot of cold shoulder, actually, and I am all worked up trying to figure out just how the hell our relationship changed so rapidly. He’s helping me pay the bills, and I think he wouldn’t be if he didn’t care. But at the same time, it’s difficult for me to believe that he cares when he refuses to talk to me anymore. It’s a painful feeling of confusion and abandon that I fear from essentially everyone I meet. People keep trying to tell me that I have to learn to trust, although I’m not sure why, when things ultimately end up like this.

My literary agent called today with more news, but I have to keep it on the low, of course. I'm on edge with the whole publishing process. Its difficult to wait for something that I want so badly. Patience is a virtue, though. Must ...practice ...patience.

I’ll be back in LA soon. I feel like being alone tonight. My mood is low. My stress level is high. I’ve started taking mood enhancers again, but that's not enough. I sense a good cry tonight.

Raquel~