Agamemnon
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February 25, 1999.Today is the 3rd anniversary of the loss of my virginity (on a waterbed in a wood-paneled basement, for those of you keeping score at home. I remember a couple of my mother's dyke nursing friends making disparaging remarks about waterbeds, but as it turned out they didn't know what they were talking about.) Today is also the day that my birth control kicks in. It's like Amoret's International Sex Day in these parts of the woods...celebrate accordingly. This is rather fitting, actually, because the campus sex-ed people are advertising this week as sexuality awareness week. I'm not sure if they're plugging into a network of sexual education workers or if they simply took the authority upon themselves to declare it so - but in either case, there's a display table full of dildos in the lobby of Sid Smith, so something interesting is going on. The other day I picked up a flier at said display advertising a workshop on female orgasms next month, "for all women on the orgasm learning curve." I thought about it for awhile, and I decided that although I didn't much fancy going alone, I'd rather do that than find out where my friends are on the orgasm learning curve. Really, now...I can live happily without the information. And one final tidbit to close off Amoret's International Sex Day, supplied to me by Tymothi:J last night: apparently, when a man sees another man flirting or manhandling his woman, sperm production goes up 50%, thus intensifying the ensuing encounter accordingly. I think you can provide the moral of this story for yourself.
Buzzed by my future home this afternoon. It's really really really small...like, so small that I prolly won't be able to fit more than my bed into the room. The neighborhood is also significantly more run-down, which is going to make my dad have kittens. Nice place, mind you, and I'm right down the street from Savage...so I'll have to grin & bear it for a month. It won't be such a big deal once I get used to it, I s'pose. More on this as it develops.
Last night was trés intense...and this morning I had the dehabilitating hang-over to prove it. When I arrived, it was just me, Dirk, Paris and Agamemnon sitting around insulting one another. Dirk said that it was his idea of heaven to be sitting around with us, making crude comments with the boys and enjoying the sight of my embarrassed writhing under the barrage of offensiveness. And, it was pretty wonderful. Then people started to arrive and the pitchers kept coming and the night became a joyous blur. I have no idea how much I drank, since people kept topping me up and I was just concentrating on enjoying myself...but the hollow feeling in my stomach right now speaks of a hell of a lot of booze. We sang all 14 verses of "Barret's Privateers" and tickled Dirk and stole his socks. I talked to the Lawyer, which was both soothing and amusing no matter how infrequently we get together. I tickled a stranger and administered the corruption test to the Boy (115...what has he been doing with his life??) and generally had a glorious time. Much of it is fading behind a drunken haze of glory even now. And at the end when I was too sick to hang around, I hugged Agamemnon & cried a little & gave him my large silver goth cross to bear. I'll really miss him, offensive comments and all.
"You can't base your life on second-hand clothes and Anne Rice novels." - the 1st offensive thing he ever said to me, oh these three years ago
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