Sunday, June 10, 2018

You're the Type of Girl

June 10, 2018. 2:12 a.m. Blog number 5447. The end is near.

Okay, so maybe I haven't written quite that number of blogs, but it sure feels like it.

Anyway.

Today someone whose name I shall not say and I talked about sex. I don't remember how it came up. Wait, I'm thinking about it...I'm getting a vague recollection...something was said, not related to sex at all, about punching people in the face, which segued to sex-related hitting people in the face, which segued to a statement by him about vanilla sex, which segued to his stating that he's one-hundred percent sure that I'm completely vanilla, which segued not to any type of detail about me and sex because, hello, this was a specific person whose name I will not say I was talking to, and even though I know so much about his sex life it's disturbing, I wholeheartedly believe he should know just about zero regarding mine. Even so, when he made his statement about being sure I'm vanilla, I got totally defensive and demanded to know why.

You just seem like it, he said.
I seem like it how? Why? I asked.
Just everything about you. The way you act. You seem very vanilla. 
Did you take the BDSM test? I asked.
Yes. I got [information withheld to protect this person whose name I shall not say]. 
Well, so did I, and I'll have you know vanilla was way at the bottom of my percentages. 

Believe it or not, this blog isn't to tell you about my proclivities when it comes to sex. We're close, people who read my blog, but we're not BFFs. It's more to look at how defensive I got when he said I seemed vanilla and why. Why was his opinion so bothersome?

Well, it's not just his opinion in question, and it's not just his opinion about me. About a month or so ago when people were taking the BDSM test, I overheard a girl in my study hall say, Imagine if someone got all vanilla. How horrible. Now, I wouldn't wager Hudson or Jazzy's life, but if I were one to bet, I'd have to say the chances of this girl ever having had (consensual. Because you really never know) sex with anyone are slim to holy shit there's no way in fucking hell. Yet, even she had an opinion about vanilla sex, and it was the same one as the person whose name I shall not say. I could never have sex with someone into vanilla sex, he said today, mirroring the statement he made when he first had deep cuts and bruises all over his torso and arms: Regular sex is just boring.

Regular sex is just boring.

Okay, let's follow this thought and the thought of the girl in my class.

Regular sex is boring--->regular sex = vanilla sex--->vanilla sex is boring/a horrible, sad thing to have--->people who like vanilla sex are boring and sad--->you (you being me) seem like you like vanilla sex. I'm sure of it from the way you act--->you are sad and you are a bore.

This chain above is evident not only in sex but in the commonly discussed notion of the basic bitch: Starbucks; yoga pants and track suits; Hollister, Abercrombie, and Pink; Uggs; romantic comedies; Sephora; weirdly abbreviated words; frozen yogurt; hashtags. Being basic includes but in no way is limited to these things, and in case you somehow aren't aware, being basic is bad af (example in action alert). I watched some silly video yesterday where the girl half of a couple in couples therapy was being diagnosed as being a basic bitch. She and the boy sat in horror as the doctor told her all the ways she'd gone awry. The boy, as awful as he found the basic bitch thing, swore never to leave her until she compared their relationship to one like in Love, Actually at which point he told her he never wanted to see her again.

Well, you know what? I fucking love Love, Actually, and I'll scream that in the streets. As soon as that video ended that's what I thought to myself, and my secondary thought was, not everybody can love Robert Rodriguez, Quentin Tarantino, and Kevin Smith, and if they did, those things would be basic, too. I also, while I don't love it by any means, go to Starbucks because it's a three to four minute walk from my house. I don't eat frozen yogurt because I don't eat dairy, but if I did, I totally would. I ate it in the past. I can't say I'd ever be caught dead wearing most of the clothes that are considered basic bitch territory or maybe doing a lot of the other things but not because I want to be different, because that's just who I am, just like these "basic" things are just who these other people are, and why is it so bad?

Why is it so bad that when I was accused of being vanilla today--basically being basic in bed--I got so upset? If I am, then I am and why should I be ashamed? People could still have good sex without being "weird." And if I'm not, well then it doesn't matter what that person whose name I shall not say thinks because I know the truth, and I could secretly be laughing inside (yeah, that's what he thinks, silly boy, I say to myself as I run my finger over the make-up covered bruises and bite marks on my neck). But I'm not laughing (nor am I ashamed. This isn't an admission).

So why? 

(This one is all you, readers. 3:35 in the morning, I'm not going to further explain.)

Why is being normal now such a bad thing?

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