The Fuck Buddy

Almost everyone has had one. If you haven’t, you know someone who has. With only a phone call, or a knock on the door they are there. There is no commitment, and it’s agreed that’s how it should be. They make you happy, usually for only an hour at a time. Unless you break the rules and you start to fall for your fuck buddy.

The whole concept is one giant gray area. The rules follow as I've stated above. No commitment, not either person. But what happens when you start getting attached?

It starts slowly, with an ass slap in public letting you know they want you later. Then the ass slapping just isn't enough because it becomes routine. So the slap turns to a grab, which turns to a hug.

Then the questions start. "Are you guys together?" Which is always followed by the awkward answer of, "Well, no."

Then the hug isn't enough. It gets more and more intense, and the comments get more akward, "You guys are so cute together." Followed by, "We're not."

But the attention is nice. Who doesn't like affection from someone they have great sex with? And before you know it, you're out of the "no commitment" zone to the "well, this could be great" zone. But then there are more questions. But questions you ask yourself.
"Do they like me too? They have to, they're publically affectionate."

Then the cuddling happens. (Men, when you cuddle, we like you more. If you want no relationship.... do not cuddle. I repeat, do not cuddle.)

Then the day comes when they say, "What? you think it's all about the sex?" (Uhhh, well wasn't it?) Okay so now you're stuck. You like each other! Great, right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Now you are stuck in a place that neither moves forward, nor backwards. You started in an uncommitted, casual relationship, but God forbid you sleep with someone else.

You're attached, but you're not.
You're happy, but not really.

The fights about what you really are, are the worst. Because you never get answers.

Then before you know it, it's seven months later. People assume you're a couple. People you don't know. Defending yourself and your status is the most uncomfortable thing to get through.

But then, the question that sets you off. The one that hurts you the most. The most awkward of the bunch, "You guys seem happy, how are you doing?"

"I don't know."


Power to whomever can pull off the fuck buddy relationship. But to the rest, be careful. Accept no public attention, accept no cuddling sessions or private movie watchings. And whatever you do... do not get stuck and fall for your fuck buddy.

"Photographers"... Myspace Style

Art has become a fad rather than a true appreciation. Like with many things in life, people only start to look at certain kinds of art and artists because they think it’s what’s “in” at the moment. This could make any true art lover a tad annoyed. The trend of photography has certainly been making uproar and has become the biggest fad of our time.

So why and when did the photography trend start? My theory is that it all started with websites that allow you to have a user picture. Think about it, all those people out there are on the hunt for a bitchin’ user picture. (Thanks Tom.) And it’s not just the user picture that people hunt for anymore. Websites like Myspace and Facebook have albums now. You can be tagged by your friends in photos. Now people are tagged in over three thousand pictures. It has literally become a contest. I overheard a conversation between two guys who were arguing over whom had more pictures tagged of themselves. Congratulations, there are forty-seven pictures of you in the same outfit, holding the same beer, sporting a different face. Way to dream big, guys.

Taking photographs is a fun thing to do. But now, people who take pictures Myspace style are starting to call themselves photographers. You know the type. Holding their cameras out in front of their faces so to get the city behind them, or the entire party, or their friend dancing on the bar. These are the same people who tell people that their hobbies include photography and finding new unknown bands (but let’s not go there, shall we?)

Now, trendy art stores like Blick, and even Urban Outfitters (a store that prominently sells clothing, by the way) are starting to carry different kinds of cameras, lenses, and books on how to get the right picture. No wonder the trend has become so intense. With cameras and books on photography being sold in these trendy stores it’s hard to not be intrigued. And that’s okay. Be intrigued, taking photos can be a great thing.

However, there is a fine line between making memories and being a photographer. Please be aware of this difference. The difference is of course, the content of your photos. Do they capture true raw emotion or meaning? Or is it you and your friends with planned smiles?

Photography is a huge part of our culture now. We carry our cameras in our bags with us wherever we go, and most of us don’t know many people that don’t have decent skill in PhotoShop. Even our cell phones come equipped with cameras. This fad we as a society have created with photography has caused it lose its art form.

Fads. They’re everywhere. They’re in our shopping bags, we drive them, watch them. We despise them, and we love them. These things, these fads, have caused some of us to be sheep. Sheep with cameras.

Our Generation's Guilty Pleasure

I wrote this a while ago, but figured I'd post it. Editorial for a media writing class.


It seems that these days more and more of us are baffled by the lives of celebrities. We are a society that watches reality television. We are a society that reads tabloid magazines. And did you know that a few of us are actually buying celebrities hair off of e-Bay?

The shock does not lie in how crazy celebrity’s lives can be; it lies in the fact that we are starting to rely on their lives like we rely on the air we breathe.

We have magazines dedicated to the chaotic, (or not so chaotic) lives of celebrities. You could go to the corner store right now and know what was new with Britney Spears just by looking at the cover of a magazine. She will most likely be making a horrendous face, sporting a very brave ensemble, with a headline in vibrant yellow saying something along the lines of, “Britney Caught Partying Again! Mom Tells All!” We would all be lying if we said we didn’t, at the very least, glance at those headlines while waiting in line to cash out.

Why do we care about celebrities? It is the same reason we go out and see a movie; it is an escape from our own hectic world. Breakdowns, sex scandals, children’s eclectic names, and the passing away of the rich and famous have us hypnotized. It’s not wrong to want to know about them, take no shame.

However, this information is no longer only told in our weekly guilty-pleasure magazines. It’s headlining the news.

This past weeks headlining news was not about the upcoming election, it was not about the war in Iraq, and hell, it wasn’t even about a scandal from our local politicians. It was about actor Heath Ledger’s death. His death was covered not just for one day, but for at least three more (yes, I counted.) Sure, we are grateful to be informed of the tragedy. After all, he was in movies that we will always remember, movies that have become a part of our young-adult lives.
But let’s talk about this… is it necessary to know the details of his death? Do we need to know what his maid was doing at the moment he died, or who was called when he was found dead? By the way, his maid changed his light bulb while he was “sleeping,” and Mary-Kate Olsen was called. (But I bet you knew that.)

The media knows we’ll read every page of a juicy detailed story of a celebrity on our morning commutes. They know we’ll turn up the television when we hear a celebrity’s name being put to shame. And even though it’s not the most important news, they know we’ll treat it that way. It’s our jobs, our deadlines, and our weekly to-do lists that steer us to something else; anything else that helps us forget our own world.

It is for those reasons that we don’t always want to hear news that affects us, and why sometimes we’d rather avoid the real. And it is those same reasons why we want to know that Heath Ledger’s maid was changing his light bulb, and why we need to know that Mary-Kate was called.

The more detail we know about them and their lives, the less attached we are to our own. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Getting it: Officially.

Relationships. Before I say anything, I feel like I should first say that I am terrible at them. I eventually find myself at the point where everything about that person annoys me so badly that I have to let go. This could take a month, it could take eight, it could take a year... but eventually I want out.

With that said, maybe it's because I don't let things just happen. I count, I keep track, I worry. I count how many days it's been since I've last seen them, how long it's been since I've sincerely laughed at something they've said, how long it's been since I felt adored. I keep track of gift giving, card sending, REAL dates. I worry who that girl is they're talking to, when I'll see them next, do I make him feel important enough.

What if I threw all that out the window and let things just happen? I am. I'm trying. Because everything I've been doing has yet to work. (surprise, surprise you crazy lady) I like not keeping track, counting, or worrying. There's no pressure. I can be me, he can be who he is... and we have fun.

Lesson: Don't forget to have fun with someone, whether you're official or not. All that will matter, and all you'll remember is the fun you did or didn't have. So have it. Enjoy their company, let them make you laugh. Let it go where it goes... even if it goes nowhere.

we're all assholes

So why is it that I'm attracted to men who lie, or cheat, or that really piss me the f*ck off? I started to think about it --due to recent dickheadedness, and decided that its not just the one's I'm attracted to. That maybe it's that all men are like this. And hell, it's probably not just men, it's women, too.

We all lie, whether it's to spare someone's feelings, or to spare your own. We all cheat, whether it's on a partner, or on a test. And at some point or another, we've all pissed someone off.

So when you catch a partner in a lie... should you really be mad? I was. Until I realized I lied, too.

we're all assholes.

Fatties?

Weight is a problem. Not just for me, for everyone. Whether it's "I weigh too much," "I'm too thin," or "How do I stay this weight?"

My roommates and I actually have a competition going. The game: Who can lose the most by Thanksgiving. The prize: Feeling better than the other three. As horrible as it sounds, it's true.

We brought a scale to school with us this year, and we each weigh ourselves everyday. (Sometimes more than once a day...)

Only one of us exercises (and even that is not a regular event.) Yet, we're all losing weight. We've been aware of what we're eating. Well, I should say, what we're not eating. I thought this was kind of ridiculous, but then today I experienced something that made me see why.

Today we polled our guy friends: whether or not they find two girls hot. (To keep this short, I'll skip on telling you why we asked.) These two girls are absolutely beautiful and the sweetest people I have ever met. Six guys said a definite yes to one girl and for the other... "Maybe," "Uhh, I don't know." I asked why. "Well, she's got to lose like, 45, 50 pounds." She actually only weighs 150, max.

I never felt so much like a beast before in my life. Since this summer, I have lost 25-30 pounds, and still weigh more than the 150 pound girl. The only thing I could think about for the rest of the night was what they thought of me.

Now, I want to lose weight more than ever. But not so that I could have any boy I wanted. It's so that I can turn down the boys who made me want to do it.

Motivation: Spite.

Women... emotional? Sure, we can get emotional... it's called a period gentlemen. We have to have it so we continue the human race. I don't see you popping an 8 pound person out from between your legs. It's our right to be emotional for four days out of a month... we're bleeding 24/7 for four days straight, afterall.


Yes, I'm angry.
Okay, I'm annoyed.
Okay, Okay... I'm emotional.