Tuesday, October 10, 2006

061. Kiss Me

Is it really that weird that I learned to kiss by kissing an orange? Or that my girlfriends and I practiced on each other? I thought most girls did. All it takes is one chick to say "EWWW!" and all of a sudden you're a freak. It boggles me how she can ask questions about, what's this like? How does that feel? But the moment I say something that I think is kinda funny now, she is scandelized. I'm gonna have a talk with her in the morning. I tolerated her asking personal questions in front of male housemates (Did Steve make you orgasm? When was the last time you orgasmed? Um...why did you leave your KY on the bathroom counter?), but I will not tolerate her making something innocent out to be something disgusting. Cause, you know, I can name dozens of girls who practiced kissing on pillows, hands, dolls and ice pops. Why is an orange horribly disgusting? We read about it in a magazine. Just because you didn't practice on your friends doesn't make it wrong. And if you are going to sit there and tell me anything relating to my sexuality is disgusting--because that's what you're doing when you ask me these questions and cry out at me answers--then I won't play along anymore. I am not a slut. And I can't respect you if that's all you think I am.

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