and I’m so happy that I’m blushing and tearing up. It just feels really good that they took another chance on me. Can’t wait for more classes!!!
And it actually went well
Like I didn’t mess up or anything, and I feel like the things I said helped scenes along or helped new scenes form
I met a lot of new people, and I genuinely had a blast.
So maybe there’s something to this and maybe I should just keep trying to get better at it so I can have more nights where the city doesn’t feel too big for me.
Being a moderately to highly attractive female has its perks. Sure, you got out of that ticket, some rando is carrying your groceries to your door, and hey! Is that another free drink?—But no good deed goes unpunished and no matter who you’re gracing with your beauty, you could potentially still never get laid. People might not think you’re a virgin, maybe because you’ve all told them lies that you actually had had lots and lots of weird, tantric sex but, believe me, it’s true, there are attractive, intelligent, successful women who cannot for the life of them get the D. We call them the Secret Virgins.
“How on Earth are you still a virgin?”, you might ask yourself, crying alone at home on a Friday night, “How did you never have awkward teen sex because ‘everyone’s doing it?’” You can’t even blame being religious because you’re not, and come on, looking back, you’ve gotten plenty of decent offers. So what gives? Here are a few probable reasons you’re hiding your secret virginity from the world like how I hide the HBO Go password from my roommate so she won’t watch marathons of Girls.
1. You totally did miss that part of college and high school where everyone was just touching each other. For whatever reason, you were a loner in High School/College. My theory is that you were probably a freak-of-nature child prodigy that was 2-years younger than everyone else. Because you were viewed as an outsider, something I like to call a “male-kryptonite force-field” was created around you, one that shielded you from sexually irresponsible young boys. This force-field surrounded your entire body and caused males to run away, probably secretly laughing with each other about how no one would ever hook-up with you.
2. You dated a gay guy for a year, and he totally didn’t bone you. You slide on the stunning silver lace lingerie you purchased at Victoria’s Secret (and it looks good because you haven’t eaten solid food in 2 weeks to prepare for this moment), the lights are dimmed in this cozy Parisian hotel room, and you’re already creating a mental short list of who to message about the “naked tie scene in Pretty Woman” shit that’s about to go down. He comes out of the bathroom, body glowing a soft blood orange in the sunset lighting, and plops down on the bed next to you because HE HAD A LONG DAY OF LOOKING AT MUSEUM SHIT AND WANTS TO GO TO BED. IT’S A GODDAM BUILDING WITH OLD PAINTINGS IN IT, NOT A MILITARY OBSTACLE COURSE. Why did he fly you to France only to do the same not-sex activities you always do?! Why has it been a year and he won’t touch your butt? There were warning signs before this, but this seals the deal. You spent a year romantically involved with a homosexual, and not even one who gets drunk and pretends you’re a younger, shorter, more feminine, darker-skinned George Clooney.
3. Subway can help you lose weight; penis. So after the Parisian fiasco, you decide that since you weren’t meant to have the most romantic deflowering in human history, you resolve to lose your v in the most deplorable, least storytelling-appropriate way possible. Mid-summer in an abandoned college town, you decide to add whatever cheap lighter fluid they’re passing off as liquor into your large diet coke from Wendy’s and meet up with a friend of a friend, someone who will help you get it over with so can move on with your life like a normal, adjusted adult. Besides, you’re already wasted from the fumes from your beverage so forgetting the experience shouldn’t be too hard. Just as he switches off the lights, the default ringtone on his T-mobile Sidekick booms through the room, rousing the lights back on! It’s his manager from Subway and she’s on the way. “Subway doesn’t have delivery service,” you think naively, wondering what sub emergency could be happening at 1 a.m. on a Thursday. He literally asks “do you mind?” and you sleep in your car until you’ve sobered up enough to drive the hell out of there. Yet another totally valid reason for why you are a 23-year old virgin.
4. Kelis misled you. Sweets aren’t enough to get the boys in the yard. Every other part of your life seems to be coming together, and you meet a guy who seems mentally stable, charming, funny, tall, and interested in having sexytime. You go to him, bearing candy and good wishes, only to look into his eyes as he tells you that he “will never, ever, have sex with you.” Insult to injury: you didn’t get to eat any of that candy.Injury to morgue: You’re too proud or too emotional to ask why you weren’t good enough. This one hurts. A lot.
5. Every dude in their 20s is a lunatic and you’re probably better off not even trying because those bodies don’t end up in the river by themselves. It’s been said that men take longer to age than women. That’s why chicks look so good in their 20s and dudes look so good in their 40s. But when you’re a good looking twenty-something girl, you are exposed to a lot of dudes who have now flipped the script and only want to be in your pants. Yes, yours! In fact, they want in your pants so bad that they can’t hear what your name is or where you’re from of if you’re actually a person or just a sack of plush teddy bears on the subway. You’ve somehow dissolved the dick force-field and can get it whenever you’d like–you can tell a guy you’re a virgin after only knowing him for 3 minutes and he will ask “but do you want to be?”
…But age has brought you wisdom and you’re slowly realizing that you don’t just want to get laid by some guy who is every level of wasted tonight—you want an actual real relationship. You want “how did you two meet?” and feeling special, and date-nights, and back-story, and future plans, and everything. Sure, you may have to kiss a few frogs to get that AND sex, but you still think you deserve it.
And that, my friend, is why you’ve ended up a Secret Virgin in your Early to Mid-Twenties.
I wanted to call this 13 “blogolutions” or “vlogolutions” for 2013, but that just felt really dumb and so now you’re just getting regular old resolutions. Deal with it, it’s the last slight I’m dealing you in 2012.
1. Post more pictures.…of myself, my apartment, New York, Cincinnati, and everything in between. I made this blog solely with the intention of pushing myself to create and I intend to do a lot more in 2013.
2. Get in shape. I got a headstart on all those “resolutioners” that will be clouding up the gym in the next 2 weeks, but I am pledging to actually stick with it. I bought a yoga mat and everything.
3. Dress. Cooler. I don’t mean be all materialistic, but it’s about time I stopped looking like an explosion at the mall. I have really good taste when I actually take the time, and I miss being that in tune with my personal style. Maybe this blog will even be a little more fashiony…
4. Finish Improv and start Sketch at UCB. I had the biggest blast during Improv 101 this past fall, and I know that it’s what I need to be more successful in the long-run.
5. Post consistent videos and blogs. I have this
awfultypical blogger habit of disappearing for like a week and then just showing back up like I’m a treasured show on NBC. You all deserve better, and I’m going to commit this time.
6. Travel. I haven’t left the country in almost 4 years, and I haven’t done enough continental travel. I will change that. I have some plans to see some friends around the world this year.
7. Learn how to eat. I am not an invalid. I know how to eat. What I mean is learn how the right way. I don’t really know how to cook that many things, and I either go long periods forgetting to eat, or just eat based on whatever chocolate craving I’m having. No more. Me and this body need to get all sympatico.
8. Read even more. In 2012 I vowed to read more, and I have. Sure, doing Tipsy Book Reviews incentivized reading, but I actually really like reading. All that time spent on the subway and in cabs doesn’t have to be spent worrying about what that smell is. I can actually just get lost in stories (but not so lost in stories that I get robbed).
9. Create a web-series. It’s in the works. I just need to work out details like equipment, shooting schedules, and casting. I have a good feeling about it.
10. Make my bed. I always envied those people that would give up an extra 6 minutes a morning to make their bed. I plan on doing that gym thing before work, so maybe it won’t be so hard to do it if I commit to…
11. Go to bed earlier. I’m at this lucky stage in life where my only commitments are my living situation and my job. That’s a great place to be. I need to stop convincing myself that anything good happens after 11pm on Wednesdays and work on actually getting enough sleep.
12. Pay down my debts. Student loans? Yeah, they’re a bitch. This year I’m committing to actually getting rid of a few of them. I want good credit. I want all those adulty things that go with good credit. It’s time to get it done.
13. Meet loads more interesting, amazing, wonderful, complicated human beings. (yes, that photo is Shannon from CoffeyChat) New York is huge. ENORMOUS. I think it’s harder to meet people because of it. I’m going to do it though, I’m going to meet more people who are doing what I want to be doing, and I’m going to learn everything I can from them and hopefully give them some love in return.
Happy New Year. Big Kiss.
-I do not like fried plantains. I got a tv dinner from Kashi, and it was like “vegan and lots of vegetables” and it was all tasting like the standard universal grain and beans spice goo, when something a little too sweet showed up and totally ruined it for me.
-I cannot drink more than 4 drinks (shots included as drinks), and I cannot start drinking before 9 or else shitshow Akilah shows up and drunk texts become breadcrumbs that don’t lead far enough away from embarrassment.
- I have model friends. Surprisingly not jealous-hating them at all in the least.
-I need to look like a hipster and then I will get cast in so much more shit.
-There’s a Bengals Bar (who-dey) in the East Village. I will be there on Sundays.
-Joining a gym for $10 a month is worth it. I’m going to be New York skinny as soon as I stop liking candy and ice cream more than I like some members of my family.
-Going to Improv shows for $10 is worth it! I think I’ve gotten the concept of improv for a long time, but there’s something about consistently going to shows that makes it seem more doable.