"There he goes, one of G-d's own prototypes...Too wierd to live, too rare to die." Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas-the film not the book

"My hair ain't afraid of no dead people. My hair was raised around dead people." Tonight's episode of Six Feet Under

So I'm really depressed. I don;t really have the energy to go into everything that has happened this last week, but let's just say, oh my god it was wierd. And the wierdest thing was NOT ending up at a red neck bar on the upper west side at 4 o'clock in the morning on a tuesday, or going out with a pack of eight former students and playing a drinking game. Nope, the wierdest was reserved for this weekend. Friday night I went to bed at eleven oc'lock I was so exhausted friday didn't seem like a day, but a dream. So I went to bed early, and at one am my phone rings and it is (maestro-drum roll please) THE BEAST. Yep, the last time he called was the first week in january and the last time I actually spoke to him in person was the last week in january and now he finally calls. Amazing. So I hear the phone ring. I look at the caller ID and I'm only half awake. So I know that I recognize the number, but I can't place it. So I answer the phone. And I hear "Hi Karie, it's justin." And my response is "Christ of course he would call when my apartment looks like a hurricane hit it. Of course he would call when I get all depressed that the only thing men want me for is sex." For Justin, to be fair, had his moments of making me feel better. (Unfortunately he then went and made me feel a hall of a lot worse. He encountered the same problem Chris D had with me. Basically, Chris figured out that the only way to win with me is simply not to play. I'll make you feel guilty no matter what the hell your do-it's a gift, what the hell can I say?) So half awake as I was, I recognized that the best thing for me to do was pretend to be more asleep than I really was (otherwise he would want to come over and sleep with me and I was not in the mood to break up with him while he was at a bar on his cell phone. Of course, I don't know if I can technically break up with him, since I don't think I'm his girlfriend. I mean, would you wait two months before you called your girlfriend?) So he is like "Are you asleep?" (I told you the boy was bright.) So I'm all mumbly, "yes." So then Uber-mensch says, "Do you want me to call you tomorrow?" (The brains on this kid are stupifying-and the sad part is I'm only being partially sarcastic.) So I say "Yes." So does he actually call the next day when I'm conscious (and now fully curious about what the fuck he has been doing for the past two months and why the hell he would call me out of the blue like that. Being me I can't allow myself to believe it was just a booty call. Which is probably exactly what it was...fucker) So he says "Ok, sweet dreams." So now I'm going to be filled with hostility and curiousity and let's face it desire. Because he was a great lover. And because he was fucking brilliant. And because he is everything I want and can't have. (Although recently I began to ponder the question of what my father would be more offended by me being involved with a black guy or me being involved with a prototype of the master race. It is an interesting conundrum.-I think I watched The Ring too many times.) But I'm in a really depressed and hostile mood tonight. And part of it has to do with what happened on thursday night. I mean, what is with these involved men wanting me for just sex? I don't know if I can actually articulate what about it enrages me so much. But part of it was Damien at one point said to me "Well, you know I could lie to you and say I would call." And I responded, "no you can't." But the truth is you can, and many men do. Because I work with the lie. I open to it. I so want to believe it. But what exactly is about me that's seems to broadcast "moral flexibility" and pure sex appeal. Why don't men see me as having girlfriend potential. I mean, this is why I end up just sleeping with guys because it breaks down like this. If I resist, then I never hear from them again and I don't get ANY pleasure out of it. If I give in, I never hear from them again, but at least I get some pleasure however temporary out of it. I mean, did I feel good about resisting Damien, sure. Was it the right thing to do? No problem. But the next day i started feeling those regrets crawling all over me. On the other hand, he wasn't really worth all that. Still, I go out and men hit on me just for sex, I don't go out and I still don't find a boyfriend. And this is why I'm depressed. It seems that it doesn't matter what I do. Modify my behavior. Stick me in different clothes. The same thing happens. If only I could become a Jewish nun.