Transplanted Life
Sunday, November 09, 2003
From yesterday's comments:

You finally took the first step toward true bimbohood. You went out and fucked some stranger, and didn't even care.
Apparently, one night of anonymous sex puts you on the road to being some sort of slut. Maybe I should have mentioned that Steve wasn't the first guy to ask me to go to his place Friday night, but you know what? It doesn't matter.

I'm not going to have a relationship now. I don't know enough about whether one can have a future. And even if I knew what would be going on in my life two months ago, I'm not sure I'm up to it on a day-to-day level. Yesterday, I wanted to look Steve's address up, maybe get a phone number, call him back. I was all, hey, play the hand you're dealt, and if you suddenly find yourself back in your own body, well, having your heart broken is possible in any relationship. Today, the idea of being romantic with another guy seems kind of, well, gross. I don't know whether it's hormones or just how connected I feel to my previous life an given day or what, but I can't honestly be expected to sustain anything really girl-specific for long.

And the relationship with Kurt wasn't easy. I hated lying to him, and even on the days when I was really feeling it, I always worried about how he would react if he found out everything. And even if it wouldn't be quite as personal with anyone else, that will still a factor. I don't want to put myself through that again.

But I do like the sex as a physical activity. And it does help me feel less alone. So maybe the way I chose to get it Friday night has a lot in common with how some bimbo acts. But my reasons are different, and that's got to count for something.
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