Monday, February 1st, 2010...4:39 pm

Twilight.

I did not get into the Twilight books because they are boring, I don’t agree with them ideologically, need to see my vampires in the flesh and was waiting for the movie.
“Would you rather be a Vampire or a Zombie?” LA Girl Friend asked. She is going through a phase of getting to know me in a very unique way. Recently, I spent ten minutes at a bar trying to decide whether I would rather a tattoo on the right or left side of my face. I am not sure of what she is compiling.
“Vampire.”
“Not a Twilight vampire, like, a real vampire.”
“Still vampire,” I insisted. “I am a fussy eater but I am not a fussy drinker. Drinking blood would be like doing a Jager shot. I could handle it. But if I had to eat brains, I would be the first Zombie to die of starvation.”
I am not so much into biting people but, you know, if I was dead already, it is probably the one kinky thing I could get into.

My ex-boyfriend used to give me hickeys in my sleep because he knew that I hated them. I would wake up in the morning looking like I had slept with Edward Cullen. So the reality was depressing on multiple levels.
“I have to walk around looking like this all day now, you know?” I would tell him every day.
“Yes,” he would laugh. Hysterically.
“Dating you is like having to stand next to Pauly Shore. I am associated with something that just isn’t funny.”
I dealt with it because I got him back by giving him horrible hair cuts whenever he needed a trim.
“Just put this bowl on your head. Honestly, it works better.”
I am not sure who was the brains of That relationship, but I definitely had the last laugh.

Every day people tell me stories of Kinky Shit that has been tried on them in bed. Obviously, they figure that I will be either experienced in it or into it. Often I am neither, but I always have the last laugh.
“A finger went in where?!” may be my most frequently used phrase.
No one ever tries Kinky Shit on me. If I cared, I would be the first girl in the world to beg for butt sex. I have my theories as to why this is my reality. First of all, I think that people are fearful I will write about it. (Fair call). And, secondly, I think that I walk around with a metaphorical sign above my head that reads “Generic”. I love sex, I am an advocate for it, I think it should be engaged in at every possible moment, encourage people doing whatever they want but, personally, I just don’t need bells, whistles or Kinky Shit to keep me interested. I just need a pretty boy and…well…nothing else. So, evidently, I am seeming boring. This could be obvious to the general public because, basically, “Twilight” is the most experimental thing I have ever taken to bed with me. And I threw it against a wall after the first chapter and resumed to finding someone to throw me against a wall.

I recently hooked up with a boy who bit me. I didn’t notice at the time. Because, well, apparently I also need Jack Daniels to set the mood. When I did become aware that I had slept with a moonlighting vampire, I felt kinky and under-read at the same time.
“Look at this,” I told LA Girl Friend, showering her the bite marks on my shoulder. Neck. And arms. I looked like a walking and talking dental record.
“Oh! You hooked up with a vampire!”
When something unique happens to me, I usually claim it and advertise it from billboards. It can be generic to everyone else, but I will be all excited because I drank milk directly from the carton. Or similar. Call me generic, whatever, I get excited when something that has never been done before happens to me. A feeling the Twilight author, probably, has never experienced considering Harry Potter exists. I started to wear sleeveless shirts to show off my bite marks.
“What are you doing?”
“Something kinky happened to me! How cool is that?”
“That is not kinky. This one time…” A story was told to me involving things I can’t even pronounce, let alone imagine. Needless to say, it was something I would have to be dead to participate in.

Kinky Shit fascinates me. Even in my limited experience, I can totally get behind it. No pun intended. I love hearing stories of people who have been shocked and surprised because someone tried to do something they had never thought of before. It is all part of being liberated and, eventually, all part of life.
“What would it take for you to do something completely extreme?” my Boy Friend asked me, possibly taking notes.
“I don’t know if California has that much alcohol.”
“So biting is the most you will do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Well, would you rather be shocked or bored?”
At this point, I think I would rather be Twilighted than enlightened.